Dark Shines
by Backyard Bottomslash
Summary: The confessional of Mello's life, the life of the immortal vampire. Follow Mello from his birth in Russia in 1592, all the way to when he meets his future fledgling and love Near in 1871, and then the three years that follow that fated meeting of chance.
1. Passing By

A/N: Well here we are... In Dark Shines! This is the story about Mello's life- the one he had in my other two stories Bring Me To Life and City of Delusion. So yup, it covers Mello's mortal life in Russia, his two hundred sixty years as an immortal vampire, and the when he meets Near in 1871. The chapters with Near are BMTL and the first ten chapters of CoD in Mello's point of view. There's no need to read those two stories first at all, but for those that did it will the a nice little addition to the other stories.

Actually, it's not going to be little at all. I predict that it will be 53 chapters, the first 30 covering the 260 years before he met Near, and the last 23 covering BMTL and the first 10 chapters of CoD.

In short, it's going to be the most epic thing I've ever written. Plus, it's my second fic named after a Muse song! So the titles of the chapters will come from the lyrics of Dark Shines.(HAPPY 31ST BIRTHDAY CHRIS WOLSTENHOLME! 3)

Enjoy.

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Dark Shines**_

**Chapter 1: Passing By**

** Well my darling, this is it. This is the confessional of my life, just as you asked. Yes, I know you never outright asked, but you were quite curious about me as a mortal. Oh yes you were, don't deny it. You were dazzled by me, how could you not be?**

** Ah, but I am skipping much ahead. My darling, you represented the most recent part of my life, and there was so much before you. Don't be mistaken, you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me, but a lot of drama happened in my nineteen mortal years and two hundred sixty immortal. That will take a lot of time to tell, but I am sure that is fine with you. **

** So let's start at the very beginning, shall we? And the start starts in the year 1592, in the bustling town of Kargopol.**

** Kargopol was a magnificent place, the crown jewel of Russian towns in my opinion. During my time it was a large trade center and an important outpost in the new outlying districts of the country. Kargopol also had great architecture, the most renowned of which was the Nativity of Christ, a cathedral built thirty years before my birth in 1562.**

** In the winter everything was calmed by the thick layer of sparkling snow that blanketed the town. It was common to go skating on the frozen Onega River which Kargopol was on both sides of.**

** But enough about that, let's get into the good stuff- my life. December 13****th****, 1592 was a frigid day as very during winter at Kargopol, and everyone suspected from the start that my mother wasn't going to live to watch her baby son Mihael grow up.**

** Elizaveta and Damyen Keehl weren't exactly the Kargopol equivalent of the Medici family. They had a small but comely house on the outskirts of the town, one of the poorer sections. It was in that little house that I was born in, and it was that little house that my mother died in. My mother was weak, and the midwife and my older sister Lenushka tried their hardest to keep her alive, but my mother just didn't have the strength. **

** Her weakness took over her mind. Elizaveta was entirely devoted to God, even her name was. It meant, 'God is my oath', and she had strived to uphold the meaning up her name constantly. I was told that during her months of pregnancy she spent all her time in the Nativity of Christ, praying for my health and future prosperity. **

** Amongst her screams of agony and her macabre prayers, Elizaveta named me Mihael. My father Damyen was rather perturbed by this decision, because the name was Hebrew and we were Orthodox. It meant, 'likeness to God'.**

** In the end, it was God who claimed Elizaveta. Soon after my birth, she proclaimed that the Virgin Mary had come to her. Next it was St. Damianos, and then the Doubting Thomas. Her saints came on and on, telling her to sell our things and travel Russia spreading God's Work.**

** Eventually those visitations Elizaveta had left her a dribbling madwoman. One day, when I was only just months old, she simply up and died. I was taken from her lap in the rocking chair she had been sitting in. **

** Then it was just Lenushka, my father Damyen, and me. We got on well enough, considering our already poor state. Lenushka, who was already twelve when I was born, took over what my mother had done when she was well, cooking and cleaning, and caring for me. The jobs of a woman of those times, in other words. She didn't have to mend clothes though; because tailoring was my father's trade and he could just take care of it.**

** My father was the best tailor of all Russia, save for the pompous professionals in Moscow. We were still poor though, people who came to Kargopol weren't exactly rich as the Czar, and they didn't mind if the hem of their pants was too long, or if a tear developed in the seam of their shirt. In short, my father was great at what he did, but we lacked business. **

** And so we stayed poor. As a young child, I never realized we were poor. I was too young to tell the difference between common and extravagant food, and I hadn't seen much of anything of extravagance to compare the lives of the Keehls to. So I was happy poor, and in turn that made Lenushka and Damyen happy.**

** Sometimes they weren't happy, though. My father didn't have a wife, and he respected and loved her too much to take another. We prayed for Elizaveta every Sunday during the Divine Liturgy, and visited her modest grave once a month and on her birthday and nameday. My sister no longer had a mother, so she had no one to teach her to be a proper lady, which is all my sister ever wanted out of life. And they saw Elizaveta in me, which made it harder for them. I had inherited her treasured blond hair, as opposed to Lenushka who had the dark hair of my father. When I was very still, asleep or in the deep thought that only children could conceive, they saw Elizaveta.**

** On November 17****th****, 1595, when I was less then a month shy of three years old, we were in church. It was the feast day of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, so naturally my family's prayers were filled with thoughts of Elizaveta. That day I was thinking quite hard about the mother I never knew, but it was a simple sort of thinking because I was still very young. **

** In my mind, I pictured my mother a princess like St. Elizabeth was. She was very beautiful, with flowing blond hair and the brightest and purest blue eyes I could imagine. Just as the Small Entrance started, I became impossibly still for a boy my age. My sister and father regarded this stillness as deep prayer, which in a way it was.**

** It was also my mother's spirit entering my body. As the congregation began to hypnotically recite the Creed in a Russian monotone, I fainted. I dropped instantly into the isle, whence my sister Lenushka thought I was just being devious and sought to pick me back up again. Instead I started to have convulsions, my body writhing so furiously that my sister couldn't control me. People turned their attention from the priest to me. They were poor people who sat in pews near the back, people who knew my family.**

** Even when the screaming started, the richer members of the congregation and the priest, who was sour in his devotion stayed rapt and fixated upon the Liturgy. I was screaming in a mature woman's voice. My mother Elizaveta's voice.**

** "**_**He'll crucify my enemies! He'll crucify my enemies!**_**" over and over I relentlessly screamed this in my mother's voice. Even when my father Damyen took me in his arms and brought us out of the cathedral I still persisted. My father was ashamed of having been embarrassed in front of the congregations, but he was afraid for me too.**

** As he carried me through the frigid streets, I stopped screaming, and my mother's voice left me, but I began to chant prayers I hadn't known as a three year old. They were prayers my mother had favored. **

** All the while Lenushka trotted before us, having to hike up her good Sunday skirts to keep up. She crooned and tried to comfort me to no avail. **

** When we returned home, Lenushka put me to bed. It was her bed too; we slept together in the early years. My father got a fire going. I was too afraid to sleep. At three, I wasn't much of a talker, a concern that Damyen and Lenushka shared, and the word, 'possessed' as in by a ghost or something, wasn't in my vocabulary. I had no idea what had happened to me, only that it was frightening and somehow involved my mother. **

** Revisiting the memory now, I realize that the experience was an out of body one. I remember that I was floating at the top of the cathedral, where the air was thin and cold. I remember looking down at myself and thinking simple words like, why, how, and what. I didn't have the vocabulary at the time to do anything by speculate dimly.**

** Damyen and Lenushka had more complicated thoughts. When they thought I was sleeping, they talked in the sitting room, adjacent to our small bedroom, speaking in quite sounding Russian. Was it witchcraft? Was it the devil? Was I sick in the head, afflicted with some sort of after affect of Elizaveta's malady? **

** Then my father dropped his voice to a low whisper, one which I could not hear. Then there was a sound of protest from Lenushka, and then a moment of silence. Then I heard grunting from my father, and squeals of pain from my sister. My three year old mind could not come up with an explanation for what they were doing.**

** Later in life, when I was much older and knew much more about the world, my sister confessed to me what my father was doing to her.**

** "Моя дочь, мы не регистр грядущих нападает на сына нетрудно, ваши брат Mihael, поэтому Я буду вы.****" That is what my father, the tailor Damyen Keehl, told my sister Lenushka, who at the time was at the ripe age of fifteen. **_**My daughter, if you fail to stop any future attacks on my son, your brother Mihael, this is what I will do to you. **_**He raped her. **

** When Lenushka told me of this, I laughed it off. Our father has been so kind to us, I told her. Why should he follow through with threats like that, or even make them in the first place?**

** Lenushka explained to me that she and our had always been close, and since she had become a woman Damyen had gone mad with desire, and used the attacks I had from our mother as an excuse to relive himself of those pent up desires of all the years without a wife.**

** But I am skipping ahead. She did not tell me that until I was fifteen, and her twenty seven. Forgive me, my darling, if I sometimes skip around. One memory may remind me of another, and I may end up just rambling on. I will try to keep on track as much as possible though, I promise you that much.**

** The next day things were silent as we broke our fast. Silent enough to make me ask in my stumbling, ungrammatical Russian what was wrong.**

** My sister Lenushka only smiled at me sadly, in an enigmatic way. She made me want to question further, but I did not know what to ask. My father Damyen didn't look up from his dried meat.**

** And so that was how my young life went. The next attack from the spirit of my mother Elizaveta happened forty days later, a symbolic amount of time in Christianity. My father had brought me into town with him to get tailoring supplies as a threat. I had saved the coin Damyen had given me for my fourth birthday, and had bought a pirozhky with it.**

** Little did I know pirozhky had been Elizaveta's favorite dessert. When my father Damyen saw me munching on it happily, he recoiled and almost slapped it out of my hand. That was the moment Elizaveta took over, and this time I spoke through the voice she had just before death, irritable and snapping.**

** "Oh come off it, Damyen. Can't you let a woman indulge in herself once and a while? After all the work I do for you!" At that point I stuffed the rest of the pirozhky in my mouth, chewing in a self-important manner. **

** Nothing other then that happened. I didn't scream or have convulsions, but perhaps that was because Elizaveta had entered more easily then last time. Regardless of what the incident meant, my father rushed me home. Later that night, I suppose he raped my sister Lenushka. **

** Of course I knew nothing of this until that time Lenushka confessed what our father was doing to her, but Damyen Keehl must have been very afraid of Elizaveta's entering me. After all, the first two times she came it was bitterly. Oh yes, he must have been very afraid to do such things to my dear sister Lenushka. **

** When I was still young though, I didn't have those concerns. I worried about simple, childish things like, when was the next time papa would bring me to town? And still not even that mattered and I was happy with my life. On days in the winter when the sun was shining, Lenushka would take me out to play in the snow, and nothing else mattered. **

** I've always loved snow very much. Pity it doesn't snow down here in New Orleans… But anyway, I believe it's the whitest substance in Earth, and it's prettier in no place but Russia. There is simply snow everywhere, and if you go to the outskirts of town and face town and face away from it, the snow is like a vast and endless ocean. You can see the sun (pardon me; you can't now because you're a vampire… How silly of me.) reflect off each little flake, and everything is bright and happy. **

** In the snow with Lenushka, bundled up tight with many layers of clothing, there was nothing in the world but us two and the snow. We played frenzied games of chase, which mostly ended up in fits of giggles. At four, the amount of snow on the ground was not much shorter then myself, so I often tripped and fell flat on my face.**

** In the snow, I forgot Elizaveta. In the snow, I'm fairly sure Lenushka forgot Damyen. Even though we were cold and wet, we were immensely happy. Damyen never went out in the snow with Lenushka and I. He always seemed to be busy doing tailoring work at those times. So it, it was Lenushka's and mine getaway from life. We were very close siblings, despite our gender and age difference.**

** Let my talk about my family a little bit more before I go on. None of the Keehls had ever been educated. We were working people, with tailoring the family trade. The Keehls had always been tailors, anyone and Kargopol could tell you that. Education wasn't important to the Keehls, for us we only needed to know how to sign our own names. **

** This is why, darling, that in the day and night I loaded you with studies. Now when I meet an uneducated person, I feel the most powerful sadness for them. Education opens the doors to great thoughts, I believe. **

** Because of that, I also believe that our lack of education is what kept my family poor, besides lack of business. I could not tell you what would been different for us if Elizaveta or Damyen could had read, but still, education was the one thing missing from our life. **

** As a young child though, that did not matter to me. My family had the Faith of the Lord, tradition, love, and bread on the table. A young boy like me, who knew nothing of the grandeur of the rest of the world, could ask for nothing more then what we already had. **

** And so what if Elizaveta possessed me more frequently as time passed on, and those possessions grew more violent? What did they matter if they changed nothing in our life but giving us a little scare, and giving Lenushka cause to be afraid of Damyen?**

** So what? **

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A/N: Like it? Hate it? Review and I'll know.

I apologize for the shortness of this chapter... This was more like an intro then anything. I also apologize for the amount of OCs, but for this to work Mello has to have a family. In order to make it up to you guys, I'll try to make them as real as possivle so they don't see like OCs. Plus, as the story progresses they'll be less of them, so all you have to do is keep reading to get rid of them!

By the way, I want you guys to tell me about the summary... Because I'm not really sure if I like it or not.


	2. You Light Up

A/N: I was originally going to post this on the 13th, for Mello's birthday, but I thought you would want it sooner. Because of that, I apologize for the shortness.

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Chapter 2: You Light Up**

** Our lives progressed normally for the next few years. It was like how I described to you in the last chapter. Life would be mundane, and then it would be spiced up by a visitation from Elizaveta. She may have thrown wild fits while she came to us through my body, but we just cleaned up whatever I had broken and went on with our lives. And of course, Damyen raped Lenushka. That was part of our daily lives now, and I carried on in my young innocence, not knowing what was going on between my father and my sister. **

** They hid it so well. When I was young and Lenushka wanted to shield me from the truth, she hid the predicament so beautifully. She never allowed herself to look weak in front of me; I never saw any pain in her eyes the day after a visitation from Elizaveta. I thank my dear sister for that, she made my childhood nothing but happy and stopped any evil that was within her power to stop from coming into my life. **

** Notice how I phrased that, darling. Whatever was within power. **

** December the 6****th****, 1592 was bit within Lenushka's power. It was the feast day of St. Nicholas, the patron saint of Russia, and Kargopol was having a bit of a celebration after the Divine Liturgy, with vendors and traveling performers in the center of town, and so on. My father was in good spirits, and allowed Lenushka to take me roaming downtown, as a sort of pre-birthday treat while he went about dropping off clothes to clients.**

** Lenushka and I made a day out of it. We stopped to watch any street performer, from the lowliest musician to the professional acrobat groups. We couldn't spare them any coin though. No, we barely allowed ourselves to indulge in the exotic food the foreigners were trying to sell us. So we stuck to watching and complementing, and all the while six almost seven year old brain absorbed all that I saw. **

** Then the most unfortunate thing happened. It was in the dead center of town, where the throngs of people were at its thickest. It was a clear day, and I happened to glance up at the setting sun as I noticed that the light was fading. I felt the clean, cold air tickled my face, and I think for a moment I smiled. Then, all of a sudden, everything became fragmented. I saw the sun like I was looking through broken glass, all split up in jagged shards. Startled, I sank to my knees and wildly looked around, trying to shake away the fear the image of the broken sun had instilled in me. **

** It didn't leave me. All I could see was the sun. The broken sun, so bright and fiery and terrible. I yelled for Lenushka, but she was already on the ground, trying to figure out what was wrong. I would have normally found Lenushka's touch comforting, but for some reason her touch was instead burning, each finger a tendril of flame.**

** Everything was burning. The sun had split, and it had unleashed God's wrath upon me, making each sensation terrible and searing. **

** All the while, Lenushka had been desperately calling my name. "Mihael! Mihael!" Over and over. **

** It didn't do any good. I still saw that broken and shattered sun. Even as Lenushka said my name, a powerful compulsion to wretch wracked through my body. I grabbed blindly at my stomach, pressing on it and willing myself to get rid of whatever wanted to come up. **

** And never, ever did my vision move from the sun. Even though I had been looking in different directions, and twilight was well over with and it was dark, it was like my eyes had stopped working properly when I had looked up at the sun. **

** Then I started coughing. The wretching had brought on coughing, and the coughing brought little spurts of blood with each cough. Lenushka was frantic, trying to help me get through something neither of us could control.**

** I think the terrible thing for Lenushka was that no one cared to help us. They were either to rich or both to even ask what was wrong. She was disgusted with everyone. **

** That continued for a while, the coughing and the spluttering of blood. There was a formidable pool of blood on the ground now, and Lenushka's worries doubled as the idea of illness from blood loss came to her mind. She was considering picking me up and rushing me home. **

** Then something changed. I could not see what it was because of the image of the sun of course, but that did not matter. Someone else was helping me now, and that person's touch was cooling. It spread over me like I had just broken a fever, a sudden refreshing sensation sweeping over me in a gentle wave. Although the touch was unfamiliar and alien, not like my sister Lenushka, it was welcome. **

** And then all the panic stopped. I could hear the sound of my own heavy breathing, instead of the maddening scattered bits of conversation from afar. I saw the cold stone walkway, and my small hands pressing against it to hold me up. I looked up, and I saw Lenushka, who seemed terribly frightened but relieved none the less. **

** Next I saw a hand, outstretched, beckoning to help me up. I stared in awe. It was gloved in blue silk with jeweled rings and lace at the hem of the sleeve. On that one hand was more wealth then I had ever laid eyes on before in my lifetime. If this man bore that much wealth on his one hand, then what about the rest of his body?**

** "Little sir, please, let me help you up." The man's voice was silky, melodic. His Russian was precise, the Russian of a foreigner who had learned easily and was proud of that. **

** As I reached out to take his hand, I realized how I probably appeared very grubby towards him. I stumbled to my feet, not paying attention to what I was doing because I was still staring in wonder. The man was richly dressed, with velvets in deep blue colors I could not name. There were jewels on both his hands, and the buttons of his jacket were pearls. He was fairly tall, with wavy strawberry blond hair that was long and tied back in a blue silk ribbon. He had pale skin, and was unbelievably clean. I was surprised he was not carrying a sword, for someone as richly dressed as he was would easily attract criminals. There was a moment in which we stared into each other's eyes. His eyes were a shining gray, which at moments reflected the blue of his clothing. **

** The moment soon passed. Lenushka was curtsying repeatedly and thanking the man fervently. The man only gave an enigmatic smile, and with a last glance to me he turned and was gone. However, I was still able to pick out his vibrant blue coat and walking stick, which had a gold handle. **

** "I think we should go home." Lenushka told me, getting herself together. Briefly my sister glanced at the pool of blood by my feet. It was such a bright red color, there wasn't a scrap of material in our house that was such a pure color. "We don't have to tell your father about this."**

** I nodded, smiling at her and I took her hand. I didn't know why Lenushka didn't want to tell my father Damyen about what had happened, and about the mysterious man who had saved me, but it my mind it didn't really matter. The tow of us had had a good day, despite the little incident. **

** We went home and everything was normal. My sister Lenushka chattered pleasantly about the marvels we had seen. There was no mention of me coughing blood or of the mysterious man. My father Damyen talked of how his clients all had the money to pay him, which was unusual during the month before Christmas. He had extra money, and could afford to buy Lenushka a new dress, and me a new pair of shoes. To my father Damyen, everything had seemed inexplicably good that day. We all went to bed happily, Lenushka curling up to me spoon-fashioned. If you only thought about what Lenushka had told my father Damyen, then it **_**had**_** been a good day. **

** None of it mattered. Wind got round. Someone had seen us. Who, we'll never know, but someone did.**

** There had been a light snowfall going on, and my sister Lenushka and I had gone out to catch snowflakes on our tongues. We taunted each other about being too old to do such silly activities, Lenushka being a woman of nineteen, and I nearly seven. It would be only a matter of time before my father Damyen started teaching me the ways of tailoring. **

** In the distance, Lenushka, noticed the bulky shape of our father braving the cold in his cheap dirty furs, heading our way. Reluctantly, Lenushka and I walked forward to meet our father. I wondered innocently why there was a deep scowl on Damyen's face. His eyebrows were furrowed together, bringing out the lines in his forehead like an over expressive mask from a comedy. The moment he was within reach, he slapped Lenushka.**

** The sound rang out, stunning me into silence. The sound went nowhere; there was nothing for it to echo off of. I stared at my father, and he ignored me, glaring at Lenushka. My dear sister held her gaze to left, the way he head had jerked when Damyen had hit her. There was a great big mark forming on Lenushka's smooth cheek.**

** "You treacherous, godforsaken child." Damyen spat. Lenushka still faced away from our father. I was confused, trying to figure out what, 'treacherous' and 'godforsaken' meant. I also was confused by what was going on. Damyen had never once hit either of us and I couldn't wrap my head around why he did just now. **

** "I ask you to do one thing, and you fail me." Damyen continued. "Look at me, Lenushka!" Damyen ordered. He reached out and roughly pulled his daughter's chin so that faced him, brown eyes wide and terrified. "I had always thought you were a good daughter, so I trusted you to take care of your younger brother, but all you do is fail and fail. And now you sin, lying to your father."**

** "I'm sorry." Lenushka apologized, as if never actually meant it.**

** Damyen growled roughly and released his grip on his my sister Lenushka. "I'm sick dealing with you, you insolent whore-child." **

** I don't remember much of the day after that. I do recall tugging on Lenushka's skirts, asking her what was wrong. She only leaned down and hugged me, telling me that father was just in a bad mood and that there was nothing wrong at all. Poor Lenushka. She was always protecting me, whether she knew it or not. My father Damyen treated her so unfairly.**

** It pained me much to write that chapter of my life. The situation was painful enough at the time, but then I did not understand the significance of those two days. It was the beginning of the end for the general happiness of the Keehl family. It was the beginning of the worst time of my mortal life. Thankfully, the worst preluded the best. **

** I did not know at the time, but that feast day of St. Nicholas was also the night I fist encountered my Maker. Yes, that bizarre rich man was indeed the vampire that chose me as his fledgling. To this day it makes me laugh that in that night he just up and left me, with only a few sparing words. **

** The sun had just set when we had met up, though. He probably was thirsting and had to hunt, lest the temptation to kill right then and there prevail.**

** That had happened to me with you, you know, there were some evenings, when you were innocent and completely unaware of whom I really was, where kissing and touching you wasn't enough. I want to hear the roar of your blood pounding in my ears, and feel it when your frail weak heart slowed to stop. I wanted to know you in the way that a vampire can only know his victims. I wanted to see through your eyes, and explore your soul like no other being could.**

** As you can see, the temptation to kill you was mighty fierce. And so is the temptation to let myself get off topic, and ramble on about how simply delectable you are.**

** Right, where was I? Oh yes. The ending of December the 7****th****, 1599. My father Damyen had holed himself in his workshop with a bottle of the cheapest vodka, working on projects he would never get paid for and in turn, wasting materials. Lenushka ended up cooking dinner and the two of us ate in silence. I felt responsible for Lenushka's pain. From that day on I vowed to be stronger for my sister's sake. I promised to try and fight off the torment of the spirit of my mother Elizaveta. **

** Without realizing it, a little boy had taken on the burden of trying to pull his family back together again.**

** Naturally I failed in this quest. It never worked. No matter what I did I couldn't stop Elizaveta. I couldn't stop the power she had over my family's life, despite being dead.

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A/N: Ok, so the mysterious rich man AKA Mello's Maker, is not an OC. He's just a character who was never physically described, so I just let my imagination take control over how he looked. Think you know who he is? Review with your guess, and I'll tell you if you're right or not.


	3. My Darkest Skies

A/N: I received an interesting review from FearMeRawr, who thought that the mysterious man was the world's favorite Brat Prince: Lestat de Lioncourt. Alas, it is not him (after all we can't use Anne Rice characters), though I do admit I accidentally gave the man some of Lestat's physical features. -_- However, Lestat's hair only curls at the end, and this man's hair is entirely wavy. Lestat's hair is pure blond, this man's is strawberry-blond. Anyway, I suppose this happened because the Vampire Chronicles was the only vampire series I actually enjoyed, and my ideas of vampirism used in BMTL, COD, and this story come from those books.

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Chapter 3: My Darkest Skies**

** I woke up the next morning and Lenushka was gone. I asked my father where she was. He said he had sent her to a convent, where she would repent and forevermore live in purity. I was crushed, as one would expect, and my life felt hollow without her. I only realized after she was gone how much I depended on my sister. How much time I spent with her.**

** Any of the normal activities we did together did not feel the same without dear Lenushka. Snow was just not beautiful. Not to mention that I was alone with my father. **

** There seemed to be a great chasm of space between my father and I. Conversations were not natural, interactions were stiff. We seemed not a family, but more so two people forced to live together. Most of the time my father seemed indifferent towards me, which led me to leave the house quite often. (But I'll get into that later.) However, when Elizaveta visited it was not so. Whenever I had come back from whatever tantrum she had forced me to throw, I saw so much primitive rage in Damyen's expression. I could tell in those moments he would be tempted to strangle me, do anything to get his dead wife **_**out.**_** He never touched me once though, I think he did that because I looked so much like Elizaveta, he couldn't bear to touch me.**

** But I digress. That's not really the point of this chapter. What is the point is that because of the indifference, my life grew to be unruly.**

** By the day after Lenushka had gone I was restless and unsure of what to do. I was even unsure of what my purpose in life was, what had God put me on this Earth for. This was all because of Lenushka's absence. My older sister had always been the one to guide me, and now that she was gone I didn't quite know what to do. **

** Spontaneously, out of boredom and impulse, I asked my father Damyen if I could go into town. This was an unusual request for me. I had never been to town without my father Damyen or my sister Lenushka. However, it was more so surprising to me when Damyen only grunt an affirmative response. I had expected him to say no, so it felt very awkward to be leaving the house by myself. I trudged through the slush and snow hollowly, not knowing what to do with myself. I went in closer to the city, though not by much.**

** It was there in my wanderings I came upon a small, almost shabby looking schoolhouse. I concluded immediately that the school was for the middle class, for only the richest could go to the nicer schools. **

** I stood there for a while, staring at the building. When I started to lose the feeling in my feet, the front and only doors burst open and about twenty or so boys clamored out. They varied in age, from those a little younger then me to those a few years older then me. They were shoving and jostling and yelling, holding their books by the ends of the leather straps that held them together. **

** I stared, transfixed. I thought, **_**this would make a lovely painting.**_

** Then I blinked, because of the snow that had hit me square in the forehead and fell limply to the ground. A boy pushed himself through the crowd, clearly the thrower, glaring at my lack of response. **

** "Hey!" He called sharply, stomping over to me. I probably looked like a fool to him, mutely gawking in my worn and faded clothing. "Who are you?" **

** "Mihael Keehl." I responded immediately. **

** "The tailor's son?" He asked.**

** "Yes." **

** The boy's gaze sharpened, as if there were something wrong with the answer I had given him. "Why are you here?" He inquired eventually. **

** I shrugged sheepishly, and then changed the topic of the conversation. "What is school like?"**

** The boy seemed to scrutinize me, as if my question was preposterous or unbelievable. "You don't go to school, not even somewhere else?"**

** Seeing as he was more educated then me, I restrained from pointing out that it was rude to answer a question with another question. Instead I shook my head slightly. "No, I do not." **

** The boy sneered. By that time I had decided that the boy found my situation disgusting and despicable, but not pitiable. **

** "Illiterate bastard." The boy spat. He turned to leave, and I saw his knee rise as if to prepare to kick me, but he did nothing and was gone.**

** I spent the rest of the afternoon brooding. Stalking the streets glumly. The sight of those boys coming out of the schoolhouse unlocked something in my mind. I suddenly realized what education could do for me, the sheer benefits of simple literacy. **

** When returned home at sunset, slamming the brittle door as I came into the house numb and wet, the first thing I did was demand that my father place me in a school at once. My father Damyen's reaction was laughter. Then he turned serious, and said that we couldn't spare the money. Besides, he told me, what good does literacy and philosophies do a tailor?**

** I shut my mouth after Damyen had denied my wish. I was stubborn and angry, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me whine and beg. But because of that decision to remain silent, my mind had given up on the idea of an education for me. I spent as much time as I could out of the house, away from Damyen. I found other boys like me. Boys who were poor, uneducated, and unhappy. **

** We formed a gang of sorts, these vagabond children and I. We spent time together, cursing our families, cursing the government, cursing anything we wanted. Because we were our own sort of family, the boys accepted my attacks from Elizaveta. They held me down when her rage consumed me, and overall their understanding comforted me.**

** The gang stayed together at least until I was thirteen. After that I cannot be sure if they disbanded or not. **

** On the night before my thirteenth birthday, December 12****th****, 1605, a couple boys and I were in the city, going about our business. Twilight was prime time for pick-pocketing, and we needed money.**

** It was just after my friends and I split up. I was about to approach my first victim, when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I sprang around, surprised and ashamed that I had been caught.**

** It nearly gave me a heart attack to see who it was. Standing before me was the blond man from when I was seven, dressed as splendidly as before, smiling again in that soft, enigmatic way.**

** "I guess I was wrong." He said, his eyes slowly taking in my image. **

** "About what?" I snarled, taking a step back from the man. I knew I should have acted more thankful towards him, he had save my life after all, but in my present adolescent mind frame I didn't think of that.**

** "When I had encountered you just over six years ago, I thought you were so pure. All your thoughts were happy, and you expected nothing more from the world then what it had given you. You were greedless and sinless. I had though, because of that, that you would follow in your father's footsteps, and eventually surpass him and become the greatest of all tailors." His voice tapered off, as if the solidity of his fantasy was fading. **

** "My father," I responded, struggling for my tone to remain civil with the man. "Is a sad, sad man who be prayed for, not admired." **

** The man frowned, mere slight downwards curve of his lips. "And you, Mihael, have resorted to petty crime, as opposed to honest work. Some would find you just as sad."**

** "Who are you?" I demanded. It infuriated me that this man talked as if we were familiar with each other, and that he seemed to read me like a book. And him? Well, I could read that man as well as I could read a book at the time. **

** "I apologize that I could not give your gift in person, Mihael. I do not have it with me. However, your birthday is tomorrow, not today, and I shall see to it that you receive it when you wake up in the morning."**

** I stood there, bewildered. Utterly shocked that he had shirked my question. And of course, utterly shocked that he somehow knew my birthday, and that he had prepared a gift for me. **

** I tried to ask the man's identity once again, but the man disappeared in the blink of an eye. Just like before, he had left me hanging, so many questions in my head. **

** During the time before I had to meet up with the gang again, I wandered around Kargopol aimlessly. After the man had said that people would find me sad, I didn't have the will to pick pockets. The man's words echoed in my head like they were some sort of truth that needed to be listened to. **

** I made up some silly excuse as to why I showed up with no money to the gang. They didn't mind, they were forgiving. When I went home, I shut myself in my room without greeting my father Damyen. I was angry. Angry at my father for being a cruel man. Angry at that man who seemed to know me so well. Angry at God for the position He had put me in. **

** The next morning, I grudgingly ate breakfast at the table with my father Damyen. He did not acknowledge my birthday. His head may not have been clear enough to do so. He did, however, acknowledge a piece of mail that had been slipped under our door in the night. My father handed it to me, clearly wary of its sender. **

** It was rich paper, thick and creamy with lace trimming. The envelope read what I knew to be my name, in an elegant and deep script. I ripped it open a little more forcefully then needed, and took out a sheet of paper. It was written in that same flowing hand, but I could not read it. I knew the words were written beautifully, but to me they mean as much as a madman's scribbles would. **

** "Take it to a reader." My father said gruffly, stuffing the last of our bread in his mouth. **

** For once I obeyed my father, and I soon ran to the middle of Kargopol. Before I left though, I stopped in my father's room when he wasn't looking and rifled through one of my mother's drawers. Damyen had never the heart to throw out his wife's clothes. There, tucked hidden in a corner, was a thin silver ring with the tiniest of diamonds. It may have seemed like a cheep engagement ring, but to my father Damyen it must have cost a fortune. I took it. Yes, I know it was unethical of me to steal my deceased mother's ring, but I didn't want to spend time pick-pocketing, and besides. Elizaveta had given me enough pain, so this was sort of an act of revenge, and it didn't cost that much money to pay a reader. I could use the extra change for something else later on. **

** When I found a reader, he took the ring upfront and gave me the change.**

** "**_**Dearest Mihael,**_**" the reader began. I cringed at the way the mysterious man referred to me as dearest, but the reader did not notice and continued. **

** "**_**I am quite aware of your situation at home. I won't delve greatly into the detail, but I know that you are unhappy in Kargopol. I also know that you long for an education, and that you want to see more of the world.**_

"_**I have great faith in you, Mihael. My birthday gift to you is a place at my school in Moscow. Because I personally selected you to attend, your place there will be free of charge, and your father will pay nothing. You will live in the academy dormitories along with the other students. Weekdays will be spent studying everything from Roman literature to fencing. Weekends you will be free to roam Moscow as it pleases you. **_

"_**Mihael, please don't say this bluntly to your father, but you will be much better off at my academy then here in Kargopol. On top of the finest education, you will be clothed, housed, and fed better then ever before. The dormitory you will live in is worth more then your entire house. **_

"_**Please, Mihael, consider my offer. You will benefit greatly from it. I will know when you have made your decision, and I will come seek you out at that point.**_

"_**Choose carefully. I have placed much faith in you.**_

"_**Your, Afanasiy Allilyeva**_**" **

**When the reader had stopped reciting, he stared up at me, gaunt and wide eyed. Though confused by his expression, I thanked the man and was off. I raced home, the words Afanasiy Allilyeva had written to me echoing in my head, ever present. I could hear his voice perfectly, the flowing casualty but precision of his voice having somehow been engraved in my head.**

**My feet raced as fast as my thoughts, and before I knew it I found myself flying through the door of my house. "Father!" I called out to where ever he was in the house, or in his joint workshop. "The letter says I have been personally invited to attend the academy of Afanasiy Allilyeva, in Moscow." **

**There was a bang, and much clatter, as if something had been dropped and let fallen on the ground. My father Damyen barged in to the parlor, a ragged and wild look about him. "You, my ungrateful son, **_**personally invited**_** to the greatest boys' school in all of Russia? Are you sure you didn't pay someone who tricked you?"**

"**Erm, no father." I shifted my weight between my feet nervously. My father had a rather intimidating aura when he demanded something of someone. **

"**And why do I have reason to believe you?" My father bellowed. "You could be making up stories, dreaming again." **

**I was very nervous, but then I though of Afanasiy Allilyeva, and suddenly I was filled with strength. I looked at my father straight in the eye and spoke with perfect clarity. "He was in Kargopol last evening. We spoke briefly. He must have-"**

"**Lies!" My father spat. "After a brief conversation, how would he know your name? How would he know where you live? How would he-" **

**I tore my gaze away from my father's burning eyes and went to my room, slamming the door behind me. I blocked out the noise of Damyen's voice, still rambling on about my lying and ungratefulness and who what. I now believed in Afanasiy Allilyeva more then my own father. He had found me twice before, and more then ever I now wanted to see him.**

**I wanted Afanasiy Allilyeva to take me away, to get me out of this trap, the trap of my family and this accursed town. As my mind raced, imagining the grandness of his academy, I wildly thought that maybe he could take Elizaveta away, too. He had done it once before, though temporarily, but couldn't he do it again?**

**I dreamed like that for hours. My mind created fabulous dreams of Afanasiy Allilyeva and the school he would take me to. The possibilities were endless, but all I needed was for him to show up…

* * *

**

A/N: This is kind of random, but has anyone ever though that Mello and Near would make good Orginization XIII members?


	4. You Take

**Chapter 4: You Take**

** I only had the rest of that day to wait. Though the hours were agonizing and monotonous, I managed to get through them by thinking of Afanasiy Allilyeva. You know, daydreaming, the likes. I described my thoughts to you in the last chapter. You know what I mean.**

** Anyway, I felt a peculiar change when the sun started to bleed red. I suddenly felt calmer, like my emotions had just decided to smooth out. I knew what was going to happen. I knew my imminent future. **

** Then there came that fateful knock. It was polite, reserved, and refined. No one had ever knocked on our door that way. At the sound of it, I sat straight up in my lumpy bed. My father poked his head in and threw me a spiteful glare. I grinned at him in response. I strained my ears to hear when my father answered the door. There was a soft greeting, and then an exclamation of surprise from my father. He bellowed my name, and I was at the entryway in a flash.**

** I was so relieved when it was Afanasiy. It's not like I doubted his arrival, but at the same time it seemed almost too good to be true. **

** I didn't pay much attention as Afanasiy and my father, who was still sputtering in shock, talked. I was too busy looking at Afanasiy. I became somehow fixated on the motion of him speaking, how his teeth sometimes clicked together softly.**

** "Mihael," he turned to me and smiled gently, at some point. His voice shook me out of my trance. "Please gather your things and do whatever it is that you need to prepare." **

** "Yes, sir!" I replied enthusiastically. I went to my room and stuffed some clothes into a ratty old bag. It was all I had, really, and certainly all I needed. I was back to Afanasiy not long. He, my father Damyen, and I exchanged an awkward glance. Afanasiy stepped back and made a small hand gesture towards Damyen. **

** I knew what the gesture meant. I turned to Damyen. "Goodbye, father." I said smugly, smirking ruefully despite myself. **

** Damyen grunted, the type of farewell I expected from him, but then he did something I hadn't expected. He stepped forward and clapped my shoulder. "At least you'll be better off then me." He said.**

** The words stunned me, and I didn't know quite what to say in reply. The words told me that he cared to a certain degree. He knew it was a good thing for me to go to this school. He knew I would benefit, and go farther then he had in life.**

** I was still staring, confused, at my father's sad, sorry face when Afanasiy put a hand on my shoulder and guided me away from the house.**

** "We'll be taking a carriage to Moscow." Afanasiy began to say. I knew he was distracting me from the fact that I was leaving the house I grew up in. I let him distract me. I didn't want to see the ghost of Lenushka's presence walk in and out of that creaky door. "It will take a few nights, and unfortunately I won't be in your company during the day, as I have some business to attend to."**

** Normally, I would have found such a remark suspicious, but I simply nodded and complied. Afanasiy grave off an aura of persuasiveness, which of course I didn't notice at the time. But what vampire, even an inexperienced and naïve one, didn't radiate that aura?**

** He opened the door for me into a carriage that was lavish. It was clear and polished, the seats lined with velvet. I, being the son of a tailor, had seen many types of fabric before, but only velvet on rare occasion. I felt like I could have stared at it forever, run my fingers over it for eternity, but then Afanasiy closed the door of the carriage, and there was a slight jolt, and then the carriage was off.**

** I boldly glanced up at Afanasiy, who looked perfectly natural amongst all this finery. For a moment he was as still and as silent as a statue, and then his gray eyes flickered to life as they settled upon me.**

** "Mihael, may I please see your bag?" Afanasiy was suddenly quite animated his movements almost grotesque in their precision. **

** Though confused, I handed him my bag. To my surprise, Afanasiy opened the carriage door for just a moment, and in that moment flung my bag out into the oblivion of the outskirts of Kargopol. **

** I gaped, and Afanasiy just smiled, teeth glimmering in the darkness. "Oh, you won't be needing those anymore. I kindly received your measurements from your father Damyen, and new clothes should be prepared for you when we reach Moscow."**

** I broke into a wide grin. Being a tailor's son, I couldn't help but be mildly interested in fashion. And fashion coming from Moscow, well, I hope that any pure blooded Russian would be interested in that. **

** New clothes were just the beginning of my happiness. Afanasiy Allilyeva was a very pleasant conversationalist. He was an upperclassman and therefore it was inevitable that we shared nothing in common, but I was eager to listen and Afanasiy was content to talk. He spun vivid tails of Moscow, of the parties he had been invited to, where the women were decked out in pastel colored lace and taffeta, and where they drank French champagne out of crystal glasses, and where the men's shoe buckles were made of gold. He spoke of the success of his school, although not in a boastful manner, and how government officials, artists, composers, and other such important people had come out of his school. He made me feel like I could do anything, which was also the emphasized focus at his academy. **

** Day, though. Afanasiy mysteriously vanished at each day break to attend to his 'business', which of course was the dead sleep in his coffin, though I didn't know it at the time. All I knew was that he went away during the day, leaving me alone with the company of no one. Without Afanasiy, the carriage became stuffy and dull, and the ride mundane. When we stopped for a meal in some pub or inn or another, the driver wasn't very good company either. He simply ignored me and ate his food, and drank out of his personal flask.**

** I helped myself get through the day by reliving the nights with Afanasiy in my head. After the second night, I knew his voice so well that it was easy for me to recreate those conversations. Sometimes I even made up new ones, which proved to be more interesting. I tried hard to rack my brain for the types of things Afanasiy would discuss, and the sophisticated answers to which he would give my endless questions. Then, when Afanasiy did return, (using remarkable speed to catch up, even for a vampire, I might add), I could put him up to the questions I had thought of. I found myself to be consistently wrong in the answers I had guess ahead of time, but I didn't care. I was quite aware that I had lots to learn.**

** I treasure those nights in the carriage with Afanasiy still even now. It was one of the few times I ever got to spend a great while with him, and it was certainly the happiest of times. **

** We arrived in Moscow one evening a few days later. I was enrapt by the tall buildings of every color, and I stared out the window like a small child, amazed at every sight I saw. There were people dressed in all colors, all styles, walking about in dainty pointed shoes and powder whitening their faces. There were people who flaunted their wealth, and weren't afraid to even be possibly murdered by someone. **

** An in some ways Moscow was no different from Kargopol. I did have glimpses down dark alleyways, where I saw the poor, the starving, and the dying. They were just like some of the people in Kargopol, just a little better hidden. **

** I tried to ignore that. I tried to concentrate on the beauty and majesty of Moscow, which was easy. And all the while Afanasiy was watching me with that soft smile of his. I wanted to tell him all the things I was seeing, but then I realized he saw those things every day, and that it would be pointless to tell him. **

** "This is it." Afanasiy said after a while. The carriage was approaching a castle-like complex of buildings painted exquisite shades of aqua. They were tall, towering over each other in haphazard layers, like the builder had been too enthusiastic to do the proper planning. I loved it immediately. It was so chaotic and flamboyant; it completely reflected Afanasiy's eccentric personality. **

** "This… is where I'm living?" I said hollowly, utterly astounded. **

** "And studying." Afanasiy added. **

** We pulled over at the side of the curb and Afanasiy opened up a side door. It led into an antechamber. There was wealth and luxury everywhere, I cannot properly describe it, it was all such an exciting blur that my mortal mind could not precisely record it. **

** The antechamber lead to a great hall, where there was one finely cut stone table. Sitting around it were about twenty or so boys my age and older, and one other man. **

** "This is it?" I asked. I knew this school was select, but it didn't seem like this small amount of people could make use of all these tall buildings. **

** "Yes." Afanasiy said, laughing slightly. "I must admit, I had half of these buildings erected upon whim and for my own viewing enjoyment." I was even more amazed by Afanasiy then before. Everywhere I went it seemed that his wealth just accumulated into an even bigger mass then I had previously perceived. **

** "Everyone," Afanasiy's voice rang out, filling the whole hall easily. "As you know, I left you last to go on a bit of a scouting mission. Here now I bring you Mihael Keehl, a fine boy with a quick mind who shows a great deal of promise." **

** I blushed slightly, unused to the heavy praise. **

** I thought the boys would have been cold to me; shun me, even, for I was still in my old clothing and therefore looked infinitely poorer then the finely dressed young men I saw before me. However I was much surprised when they all got up from the table and practically swarmed around me. They greeted me, hugging and kissing my cheeks like I was one of their own who just had been gone a long time. **

** "Take him to Nina's." Afanasiy told the others. "There have been preparations made for him there."  
I was then swept away in the tide of my new friends, who took me through the front doors of the great hall. **

** "Who's Nina?" I asked, feeling incredibly inept. **

** "Afanasiy's personal clothes maker and designer." They told me as they led me through a maze of artful corridors I would surely never memorize. "She does our clothes, too." I took one look at their garments, and immediately decreed this Nina woman to be a fine designer of clothes, as well as a skilled craftswoman. **

** "We also think that she and Afanasiy are engaged in a relation of sorts, but we can't get either of them to talk about it openly." There were many snickers and laughs among the boys. Apparently the matter of Afanasiy and Nina was a popular topic of conversation. At first I was astounded that such things were talked of so lightly, for in Kargopol they would have been denounced as sinful, but then I thought: **_**This is Moscow.**_** Ah yes, this is Moscow. **

** I soon realized why the others thought that Afanasiy and Nina were hiding a relationship. The moment I stepped into her cluttered shop, she knew exactly who I was and spoke very highly of Afanasiy Allilyeva. I was fitted immediately in fabulously made clothes; the layers dyed rich shades of blue to reflect the highlights of my eyes. Despite my protests, Nina forced a pile of clothes into my arms. The boys gave hurried farewells, as she was urging them not to linger. We left her shop, but the image of Nina was still fresh in my mind. Though her eyes were near to black and her hair the same, they was something about her caring tone that reminded me all too much of my dear Lenushka, whom I had not seen in years.**

** The boys brought me to downtown Moscow, and an open bazaar, where they spoiled me even more. I was soon decked out in jewels like the others, and munching on delicacies. **

** Soon my limbs were tired, though the others seemed to have reservoirs of energy. We went back to the school, though I secretly called it a palace, and Afanasiy was there waiting. He smiled at me, pleased with my appearance, and I was glad. Then his smile faltered, and he vanished. The boys explained to me that this was normal, and sometimes Afanasiy didn't return for days at a time. I found this to be slightly peculiar, but they didn't find it that way so I tried my best to act like it didn't bother me. **

** We settled into our rooms during a free period before bed. In my room, there was a full length mirror framed in ornately carved mahogany, and it was then that I first got a proper look at myself. I was transformed, to say the least. I looked like a nobleman's son, important and somehow older. I didn't look like me, a scrawny vagabond adolescent of the poor section of Kargopol. However, I did like this new look, and I liked the way the clothes felt on me. Besides, I was a student of Afanasiy Allilyeva I should look my best, shouldn't my best shouldn't I? **

** I got changed into my night clothes, not knowing what else to do. I sat on my bed, feeling out of place on the luxurious satin bedding, staring at an empty bookshelf. Somehow I knew that those shelves would be filled with the books of my studies, once I learned to read, that is. Why else would the bookshelves be there, if not to fill itself with knowledge I so craved? **

** The next day was Sunday, and like clockwork I rose pre-dawn to prepare for Divine Liturgy. At first I looked around, unabashedly disoriented, taking a moment to become aware of my surroundings. Sighing, I collapsed back into my bed, the densely stuffed feather pillows welcoming my head. I realized I had no idea where the nearest Orthodox Church was, or if Afanasiy and his students were even of the Faith. **

** I ended up changing into proper clothing, though I wasn't sure if I was dressed in fashion, for I wasn't used to dealing with so many layers and colors. I then spent a great deal of time wandering around the various buildings of the school, trying to find the dining hall, the only room I remembered clearly after the haze of last night's events. After a while of being damned lost, I gave up. I simply sat down in the corridor by a door. I figured I probably at least already missed the Small Entrance and it would be deemed quite rude if a tramp like me showed up late in the middle of the service. **

** I started to doze off, but then became alert again when I heard someone's footfalls coming down the corridor. I looked and saw a portly, slightly chubby yet pleasant looking man. He saw me staring at him, and realized who I was, greeting me and even addressing me by name. **

** "Are you lost, young Mr. Keehl?" He was indeed cheerful, but not so that it would disgust a person. His personality was uplifting more then anything.**

** "Yes, sir." I said I stood up. "I was originally looking for someone to ask if they know of an Orthodox Church in the area, but I lost my way and…" My words drifted off. **

** "It's not a problem, my boy. With others sheparding you to your classes, you'll be able to find your own way in no time. Now, I'm of the Jewish faith, so I don't know any Orthodox churches, but there's a chapel up one floor if you wish to pray there." **

** "Y-yes, sir." The man, whom I learned was the foreign language professor, led me up to the chapel. It was a small, but very pretty room, with a reverent wooden cross. There were stained glass windows of all different shades of green, letting in the light like foliage in a forest. I kneeled down, making the Sign of the Cross, and began to pray.**


	5. Only

A/N: Ok, so I had this ready to go last night, but then I got distracted by Facebook... Sorry... .

**

* * *

Chapter 5: Only**

** Studies progressed well. I learned to read to write, and if there were words, any words, on a page I had to absorb them and know them. I excelled in fencing, could dance and hold a tune. I knew about how law and government worked, of Russia's past, and the past of other countries. I was taught mathematics and theology, and once I proved that I could handle my work I started to learn Greek.**

** Everything was marvelous. I was drunk on the riches, on the sights. I lapped up every bit of information I could, my hunger for knowledge was limitless after spending thirteen years in ignorance. At night, when everyone was asleep, I would light a candle and wallow away the dark hours by reading trashy novels written by British romantics. They have had no value other then other then a good read, but a book was a book, and I wanted to read them all.**

** Afanasiy showed on and off through out the months. It seemed he had no particular schedule. He would come to monitor our progress, though always at night. Eventually he would declare that someone was fit for university, and soon they were shipped off, so to speak. Some came back and visited occasionally. They were always successful in their profession. Seeing them increased all our hopes for the future.**

** After two years of school, I was so absorbed with life and studies that I had forgotten, for the most part, of home at Kargopol. There were so many other things to think about that a world of poverty and despair seemed trivial. Elizaveta had disappeared. It seemed that because the family she knew was gone from my life that she had moved on. Thankfully, too. She would have been quite an embarrassing nuisance at the academy if her attacks had persisted. **

** Afanasiy approached me one cool summer night. I was studying some text or another when he walked into the airy atrium I was in. He entered quietly, softly so I could not hear it. He must have stood there for some time before he made himself aware to me.**

** "Mihael."**

** At the sound of my name, my head snapped towards the origin of the voice. I was surprised, but pleased to see it was Afanasiy. He had not been in a while. **

** "Good evening, sir." I folded my book shut and placed on my seat, standing up and bowing low. **

** "And to you as well." Smiling now, he took a step towards me. He did not look a day older then when I had first seen him many years ago. "I stopped by on my way to my quarters to apologize, actually. I believe I have not prompted you to write your sister in the past two years. She still believes you are in Kargopol." **

** I hesitated in my response. Part of me didn't want to write to my sister. Part of me didn't want to bring back the memories. "Sir, I don't think my sister can read." **

** Afanasiy let out a laugh, which although warm was somehow edged with steel. "They would have taught her to read at the convent, Mihael. How else would she truly learn the Scripture?"**

** I nodded. "I'll get right on that, sir." **

** Afanasiy's face faltered, the content, carefree expression he had held through out the conversation fell. It was in that moment that I noticed how wretchedly pale he was. I could see the deep blue veins on his partially exposed neck run upwards to his held, and his layered gray eyes hung gauntly in his sockets, quivering about, distracted. **

** Suddenly, he lunged. At the time it had seemed he had teleported himself to his current position, looking down at me, his fingers clutching my cheeks. I could not understand his behavior. It was unnatural to begin with, and certainly not how I had seen him acting otherwise. "Add as much detail and candor as you can to your letter, Mihael." He whispered, practically spitting. I was an order. "Time is a shape shifter, a worker of illusions. It does whatever it can to make you believe what you have is long, but it's not. It never is. That is the fatal mistake of mortality. What appears long is merely a blip of time in history, no more then a grain of sand in the most giant of deserts." **

** I stood standing frozen. Why was he saying this to me? What did it all mean? **

** The entire event was so absurd that when Afanasiy's hands fell from my face, when he searched my soul with his eyes, I did nothing. One more moment our eyes were locked, and then he simply left, boots clicking on the stone floor. I shuddered at the odd occurrence. There were no answers to the questions in my head. It was only Afanasiy who could answer them, and somehow I got the sense that I wouldn't be able to find him.**

** Like the dutiful boy I was, I went back to my room and wrote the letter. It was odd to think that I was talking to my sister after so many years. I'm sure to her; it would sound as if it wasn't even me writing to her. Again, as Afanasiy said, I told her all I could remember. I even spoke of how I once had been involved with crime. I knew she wouldn't be proud, but what happened happened and I was instructed to tell of it.**

** I finished the letter that night, sealed it, and sent it on its way. Afanasiy stayed at the school for some time. He said or did nothing to indicate the strange event that had occurred between him and me. It was as if it had never happened, and that I had truly gone mad and imagined the whole thing. **

** Also, in the time that Afanasiy was still at the school was when I had my first visitor. One moment I was conjugating Greek verbs, and the next the door to my room burst open, and in flew a woman in somber, heavy clothing. Instinctively, as we embraced, I knew it was Lenushka, despite that she smelled very foreign of wax candles and cold stone chapels.**

** "Mihael, thank God." We separated, and I got a good look at my sister for the first time in eight years. Though she was only twenty seven, Lenushka Keehl looked old, haggard. Time had caught up with Lenushka, as well as the pain she had kept in during her teenage years. **

** "God has been so kind as to answer my prayers." She was teary eyed, overjoyed. **

** "Sister…" It was all I could say. God had truly become her life now. All I could think of was how my mother also devoted her life to God, and how it had eaten at her mind and her soul until the day she died.**

** A choking feeling came up in my throat, though it was not happiness. It was rage. I could not explain why, but it was as if some one was concentrating a great orb of fury behind my eyes, and it blinded me. I watched, frozen in anger as Lenushka chatted about the simplicity of her new life, how she had found solace and hope in God's Word. She was even slightly thankful that our father Damyen had sent her to the convent, despite all the terrible thing she had done. **

** "What terrible things, dear sister?" I whispered. It was all I could do to speak in this odd, consuming rage I was in. I had felt the feeling before, but I couldn't quite place it.**

** "Mihael, you're old enough now. It's time I told you." **

** Stiff, I gestured for Lenushka to sit on the chair by my writing desk, and I perched myself on my bed, looking up to my sister like I had when I was littler. Now, I was a bit taller, and still growing.**

** "Do you still get visitations from your mother, Mihael?"**

** I shook my head no.**

** Lenushka sighed, looking down at her hands, which were folded neatly in her lap out of habit. She opened her mouth slowly, clearly thinking about what she was going to say. "Each time… Elizaveta came, your father would-" her voice cracked. She was on the verge of tears. "Oh, I don't want to be so terribly blunt!" She finally broke down, tears streaming down her face. Whatever she was going to say was apparently so gruesome that she could hardly bare it. **

** "Just tell me." I said. I was being so cold to her that I was probably hurting her even more, but I could not stand to come close to her, lest I lash out with all the unexplained rage I had for her. "It matters not." **

** She looked at me, brown eyes swimming with emotion, my blue eyes cold. "He raped me." The words came out a detached whisper. All else was quiet.**

** It took me a moment to develop a reaction. To take in what her words meant, what they represented. My lip twitched upwards. I let out a cold laugh. "Preposterous, sister. He always had good morals, if not then good intentions."**

** "Mihael, please believe me." My sister pleaded. She was desperate now. She had kept the secret in for so long, and now her only confident didn't believe her. It must have hurt her so much. **

** Oh wait, but I did. Here was my sister, whom I had not seen in what felt like an eternity, and she was talking about our wretch of a father. Can you guess what happened next, my darling? Is there a sinking feeling in your stomach, an instinct telling you what is to come? I hope there is, because there was for me. I knew what was going to happen, clear to me. It was horrible, but I could not deny it. I could not deny Elizaveta as the sharp claws of her soul raked apart my mind. **

** In fact, I was thankful for the leave. Thankful that my mother could just take over, sick and sadistic as it was. **

** There was a small sort of click in my mind, and suddenly my consciousness was separated from my body. I was looking down from the ceiling of my room, and that wasn't me in my body. Certainly not me whom I saw lung from the bed, a primitive snarl on my lips. Certainly not me who made dear Lenushka scream. That was not me who went for her throat. No, I watched in horror from above as that monster of a woman who had given birth to me strangle her own daughter. **

** Not me, not me. I didn't do it. My mother Elizaveta did it. **

** Trapped in the outside world, I could do nothing but whisper a sweet prayer in my mind. A plead to God that He would see all the purity and goodness in my sister, as she had an abundance of it, and that He would admit her to His eternal kingdom. **

** Elizaveta was not used to my body. It had grown taller, stronger, since she had last used it, and it apparently was unwieldy for her. Elizaveta caused a bit of a scene, blindly lashing out to choke her daughter. And Lenushka screamed and cried. She knew it was Elizaveta doing this, using me, but she had loved her mother when she had been alive, and she loved me. **

** The screams drew attention. A professor came in, saw what was going on, and called for Afanasiy. He came in faster then seemed possible, looking wild and dangerous. The moment he entered, I felt a melting sensation. It was his very presence that made me slide from the ceiling and ooze back into my own body. I blinked and looked around bewilderedly when fully back. **

** The next thing I knew, I was being torn from my sister Lenushka, who looked livid and blue. "Mihael, Mihael…" Afanasiy whispered, his tone expressing pity. There was no one else in the room but him and me. He was holding me, staring deep down into my eyes. I knew not what he was going to do, but then again, I did not have to think about it long. My eyes fluttered in weakness, and I saw Afanasiy bend down as if to kiss my neck. **

** Then there was a prick, just a slight one, and then, nothing.**

** I woke up in the infirmary. It was night. Whether the same one or another, I never knew. Afanasiy stood at the front of my bed. The firs thing I remember waking up was his head turning my way.**

** "Given eternal life one Earth, what would you do with it?" He had asked. **

** It took me a moment to clear the fog in my to understand what Afanasiy was saying. But all I could think of was my sister. Of how she was dead. "Sir, I don't think is the time for philosophy. With all due respect, sir, have you none of your own? My sister is dead." **

** Afanasiy looked at me coldly. "You killed her."**

** I shook my head in denial, flustered. For a moment, I had forgotten that Afanasiy was not me, had not known it was my mother's doing, not mine. "No, sir, please believe me." I begged. "My mother, she's dead, you see, and-"**

** "I know everything about Elizaveta Keehl." Afanasiy cut me off. His words seemed absolute, which worried me. Not to mention the fact that Afanasiy was being so cold. It wasn't like him. Normally he was a very happy sort of person, always seeing the best or improvement in a person. **

** "Sir, but how?" I questioned. Every since I had woken up, things seemed rather dodgy. I wanted it all cleared up. **

** "Mihael, you are fifteen years of age, correct?" **

** I blinked. Did Afanasiy's sudden change of topic hold any relevance? Was he hiding something? "Yes, sir." I chose to answer him anyway, despite the nagging feeling that it was me who should be asking the questions. **

** Afanasiy rotated to face the window, a graceful yet simple bounce of his heels. His right hand was poised close under his mouth, close but not quite tugging at his chin. Afanasiy was clearly pondering something, his eyes slowly the cityscape, but not quite registering what he was seeing. "You're too young, much too young…" Afanasiy mused, the intonation of his words declining softly like a sigh.**

** "Too young for what, sir? If I may ask?" **

** Afanasiy turned towards me again, looking at me with analytical eyes. "I must leave now, Mihael." He told me abruptly, as if the idea had just formed in his mind, and it had come out exactly as he had though it. "And while I'm gone, think of that first question I asked you. I want an answer when I return."**

** Without further word, Afanasiy left me alone in the infirmary. Annoyed with my mentor's indirectness, I buried myself under the covers of the generic white bed. I was going to feign sleep in order to prolong my entrance to the world of others. **

**

* * *

**

_** Living life centuries, times gone past and ages come and gone. Everything different, everyone dead. Wallowing in the memories of mortal lifetime, when you grow up with them instead of watching them die. When you die with your country, instead of watching it be torn apart and made something new.**_

_** It was stupid to have taken the gift. People's souls just weren't made to last this long. Time to end it all. Time to go into the-

* * *

**_

** My eyes snapped open, and I saw the ceiling of the infirmary. That horror was a dream. There had been no reality to it; nothing made it true in any way. **

** Afanasiy's question, though only hypothetical, was outrageous. No one could withstand the burden of time, of change. There was a reason God put us on this Earth for only so long.**

** I got out of the bed, looking for the head nurse. I was fine. I needed to get out of here and back to my regular schedule, make up the work I missed. Why was in the infirmary anyway? All I remember was being torn from my sister, and then Afanasiy leaned down and-**

** What had Afanasiy done? Why had he been acting so strangely? **

** So many unanswered questions. So many questions that would remain unanswered. That experience made me learn that with knowledge, came even more mysteries. Once you knew something, you would had to know **_**everything**_**, and you would not be satisfied until then.

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**

A/N: I hope the few people that read this story enjoyed this chapter! . See you next time in Resistance!**  
**


	6. Seconds

A/N: Gosh, I'm sorry. I've had this written out since March 5th, but I hadn't the time to type it until now. And speaking of which, I've decided that I've gone on a bit of hiatus. I've embarked on the massive project of my second novel (my first was what slowed the updates down of City of Delusion), which will probably spread my my updates of Dark Shines and Resistance out quite a bit farther, especially since I am truly terrified of what I'm writing about in my second novel...

**

* * *

Chapter 6: Seconds**

** It turned out that Afanasiy's business took a few days to take care of. He returned at the time of night that he usually did, when the rest of us were finishing the evening meal. Everyone left the table, temporarily abandoning their meals, as they usually did to greet him. I stayed at the table, buttering my bread alone with the professor who was eating with us. **

** On the outside, it would look as though I was being cold towards our beloved mentor, ungrateful and self-absorbed. However, the truth was that that I was scared to see Afanasiy. I was afraid to look into his reflective gray eyes and see the fading life of my sister.**

** Oh yes, I forgot to mention. A bit of a makeshift funeral had been set up for my sister. A priest had come and performed the proper service, and she had been buried with a small headstone in one of the cemeteries outside Moscow. A few of my closer friends came to mourn with me, but other then that I was very much alone. Alone like my sister Lenushka, buried away from her family, her people. Though it would not matter in the Eternal Life, it had mattered to me.**

** Only once did I think of our father Damyen. It was to ponder if I should tell him that his eldest daughter was dead. I decided against it. He didn't deserve to know. Let him wallow in the memories of the perfect family he had torn apart.**

** Ah, but back to the scene where Afanasiy returned. Without properly speaking to anyone save for small greetings, he came to me, standing in back of my chair, leaning down to whisper in my ear, "I want to discuss that question I asked you in our last meeting. If it pleases you, please knock on the door to my quarters in two hours." With that, he melted away.**

** "What was that about?" my best friend out of the lot, Anastas, asked. " He was the person I trusted in most out of all the people involved in or with the academy, and he had a profound talent for being able to read into peoples' faces and body language. He knew something that Afanasiy said had disturbed me, and would also know if I was lying or not giving a full explanation. Anastas really was a good friend, but once he knew you harbored a secret, there was no keeping it from him.**

** I opened my mouth, considering lying, but I knew the effort would be fruitless. "He just wanted to speak with me later this evening… in his private quarters." **

** Anasta's eyebrows furrowed quizzically. Without speaking, he returned to his meal. I sighed in frustration, and that nothing recently had been straightforward, and that I was constantly striving to find the true meaning in peoples' words.**

** I finished my meal, and then went to my room to study. It was all in apprehension of my meeting with Afanasiy. I couldn't stop thinking about it, thinking about him. I didn't have even a slight inkling as to why he wanted a private meeting to discuss a simple philosophy question. He could have done it at the dinner table, and involved the others.**

** Studying, it was hard to focus. All thoughts lead to Afanasiy, somehow or another. Instead of writing a report, my hand started to scrawl out the answer I had prepared to give him without really thinking about it,**

** Disgusted with myself that I could focus on nothing but Afanasiy, I was glad when the two hours of waiting were over. It was time to let it be over with. I walked out my room and out of the dormitory building, crossing a courtyard and entering a building that was loosely referred to as Afanasiy's. It included his private quarters, his painting studio, and his immense library of both handwritten and printed books. Anyone could walk its corridors but no one really chose to, for fear of disturbing our beloved mentor and guardian in any manner. **

** Walking into the building for the first time, I realized I actually had no idea how to find my way around, let alone know where Afanasiy's chambers were. I ended up deciding just to plunge right in and hope that I had good instincts. Wandering through the large corridors, I became aware that I didn't. I felt like it was my first day at the academy again, and that each turn I took led to another maze of hallways and rooms that seemed to hold no purpose other then to look pretty.**

** At one point in time I became so hopeless that I just decided to turn around and go in the opposite direction I had come from, and it was then that I saw Afanasiy. "Not lost I trust?" He asked, leaning on the wall and smiling at me. He was changed or rather undressed a bit, and it was strange to see him so informal. He was wearing only a silk tunic of delicate blue, and breeches of a slightly darker shade, and his brown leather boots. There was a ruddy flush to his cheeks, so I assumed he was drunk. **

** "Actually sir, I was." I replied honestly.**

** "Come then, follow me." He turned around and began to walk down the corridor he had come from, and made a little gesture for me to follow. I did, trotting up to walk beside him.**

** "Tell me Mihael, why is that when I see you, you are more often then not lost, in some manner?"**

** I did not want to talk to him of these things. They were becoming too personal, Afanasiy's questions, and talking about myself is not something that comes naturally to me, even now. It is a struggle to write these words. **

** "Sir, I do not know that." I said stiffly. **

** Afanasiy only chuckled, and we made the rest of the way to his chambers in silence. Once there, he slid ornate key into the lock of his door, twisted it, and then held the door out for me. Afanasiy's bedroom was large, airy with high ceilings and tall French windows. The floor and walls were of some cream colored stone, giving the room a warm and almost glowing appearance, despite the darkness that consumed it. There was a massive bed against one wall, with silk sheets and red velvet blankets, and gold satin hangings pulled apart. There was a large wardrobe an adjustable full length mirror propped up beside it. There was a writing desk with a small bundle of blank paper and an ink pot.**

** "Now to discuss the question I left for you to ponder." Afanasiy sat down in the chair of the writing desk, facing towards me and crossing his legs. His chin rested in his hand, elbow leaning on the desk. It was all so informal, so familiar. "What would you do with immortality?"**

** "I wouldn't, sir." I replied tersely, assuredly. I had practiced giving this response, and I knew exactly what Afanasiy was going to say next.**

** "Wouldn't what, Mihael?" I fought to restrain a smirk. For once, Afanasiy was being predictable. **

** "Wouldn't have immortality, sir." I paused, giving a spot Afanasiy to comment. When he didn't, and simply sat gazing low-lidded, I jumped right into my response. "As you must know, sir, immortality is unachievable on this earth. If, by some supernatural means, I somehow gained the gift of eternal life, that gift would quickly turn into a burden. Watching your loved ones die before you is an immense amount of pain. Not to mention, the changing fashions of time and technology would confuse a person and make him time-weary. Then there is the issue of nationalism. People are very attached to their country. Per say that country was conquered, and the immortal's family dead, the immortal would have little will to live. And it would even be more torture for the immortal to be unable to take his own life.**

**In short, sir," I began to conclude. "If given immortality, I would deny it." **

**There was a moment of pause in which I grew suddenly nervous. It was like Afanasiy's lack of immediate response scared my instincts, but then he broke into a wide grin, and the nervousness melted away. It wasn't a delightful smile, though. It was one of sad understanding.**

"**Mihael," he said, eyes now a brighter tint of blue from his shirt and breeches. "You already know so much. I am infinitely pleased with your answer."**

"**Thank you, sir." I said, bowing my head.**

** Afanasiy shifted into a more attentive position in his chair, eyes expressing inquisitiveness. "Now I hope you don't mind me asking a second question, to see what type of answer you can construct on the spot, Mihael."**

** "It's fine, sir." Now that I had answered one question to Afanasiy's satisfaction, I felt that I could satisfy Afanasiy to any respect of knowledge. In the end, I realized that my confidence was stupid and cocky.**

** "What if immortality was forced upon you and you had no choice but to accept it?"**

** An answer sprang to my lips, but it was a lost tendril of thought which faded quickly. I was really speechless. The idea of forced immortality was in a sense, obscene and unheard of due to my perfect response to the last question. After my hesitation, my lips remained pressed together. I was ashamed I could not clear Afanasiy's face of that expectant, wondering look.**

** "Mihael." I was aware that Afanasiy's voice was very close to me, and I tore my gaze from the floor to see that his face, too, was near mine. He was looking into me very deeply, eyes boring into my soul, and I became acutely aware of how his index finger was placed under my chin as if to stroke it, his well manicured fingernail almost poking the skin underneath my chin.**

** "Sir?" was all I could say. I was about as frozen in place as possible. Naturally, I was confused and even sort of frightened. Afanasiy was acting so out of sorts that it was actually starting to disturb me.**

** "Answer the question, please." It sounded as if he was begging me, his words coming out in a breathy whisper. **

** I began to squirm away. "Sir, I just don't-" suddenly I felt a great force of power concentrated on my stomach, and instantly winded; I was thrown at the wall. Sliding down to the floor, I was aware of liquid, no, blood, trickling down my back. My breath returned to me in great heaves. I looked up at Afanasiy doggedly, and was simply staring down at me, eyes wide as if I were some sort of monstrosity or circus freak.**

** There were no words spoke between us. We were simply staring at each other, mentor and student, attacker and victim. Yes, I know the reputable Afanasiy Allilyeva had been the one to hurt me so, but at the same time I wondered about him with scientific curiosity. His blow had been so powerful; it did not seem manageable by even the strongest of men.**

** "Sir, what are you?" I managed to force out of my wounded windpipes.**

** Afanasiy's expression shifted to that of grotesque anger and even a bit shameful. He outstretched his arms. "Look at me, dear boy." He bellowed, angrier and less peaceful then I had ever seen him before. "Do you see not a man, but the monster who has just assaulted you, hurt you? Tell me that!"**

** Leaning on the wall for support, I managed to stand on my own two feet. My body told me which joints ached, and that because of my back and still throbbing stomach I could not stand at full height. "Sir," I said, "I see a man struggling internally with his thoughts, evoking such emotions that he loses control and lashes out at others."**

** Afanasiy's angry expression faded, and his arms dropped to his sides. "Spoken as eloquently as anyone could manage."**

** His flowery speech angered me. I wanted to leave Afanasiy's quarters and take myself to the infirmary. I could almost feel the energy emanating him, energy that he had used to throw me at the wall, and was sickened by it. I didn't want another moment of it. "Sir, if you don't mind, I'll be taking my leave of you."**

** I turned to go, and had opened the door to the corridor when Afanasiy spoke out against it. "No." And suddenly he was there behind me, intimately close again without hearing him move. His hand caressed my cheek from behind. I stiffened at the feel of his flesh on mine, which was so cold and unnaturally smooth. **

** "What they say is true, Mihael." He said. "The blood of the young runs thickest and truest, for they are so firmly dedicated to what they believe in."**

** "Excuse me?" I replied indignantly, seriously starting to get irritated with the man whose name was on the lips of every person in Moscow. I turned around, but then of course, predictably, Afanasiy was gone. He had vanished yet again into the night like sort of wraith. God help me, I had muttered as I had limped away.**

* * *

**And that, my love, is the closure of a very important chapter in my story. There ends the innocent years. There is the death of loyal, unquestioning student I had once been. It was the end of the day when I believed Afanasiy was only a bit odd, but certainly human. Now, after that horrid experience with Afanasiy, I believed differently. There was simply no way.**

** I decided, in my spare time, to see what the others closer to Afanasiy knew about him. **

** Naturally, I started with Nina. She was willing to share information with me about Afanasiy, and yet at the same time she was maddeningly vague. She said he was a magician, of what sort she would not say, and if we didn't question his powers then life would be golden. It was golden for her. She was free of all pain because of Afanasiy, and I would be too, she said, if only I didn't think too hard about his peculiar habits.**

** I left Nina's more confused then I had acme, and starting to believe that I was either extremely paranoid, or involved in some conspiracy that was about as mad as anything.**

** After Nina had failed to yield the answers I yearned for, in my mind, I gave up. I did ask around a bit, mildly questioning some of the boys who had been around longer then I. They were not helpful, not in the least bit. They basically said the same thing as Nina. A magician. An eccentric, but generous magician.**

** I dropped the subject of Afanasiy soon enough. It seemed that no one quite knew the truth about him, and that it was a futile thing to delve into.**

** To keep myself focused, I buried deep into my studies. I took on more classes and extra work. I hardly ever left the academy anymore, for I spent all my time studying. It seemed that I was consumed with the idea of not thinking about Afanasiy Allilyeva. When he came to visit, I excused myself as soon as possible, and avoided all chances to be alone with him.**

** I think, in the back of my mind I was more then simply avoiding him. Afraid that I didn't know what he was, or what he could do, I didn't want to be near him because I feared that he would hurt me again as he did that other night.**

** I don't know what the others thought. I can't even imagine what ideas flew through their precocious minds. I heard whispered rumors, though. They knew something had gone on between him and me, just not what sort of something. **

** Afanasiy allowed me to play this little game of avoiding him for four entire years. I think perhaps that he was glad of my rate of learning, and didn't mind much because I was now at the top of the school in terms of marks. However, four years is a long time to avoid the man who gave you a second chance at life, and by the time I was nineteen, I was ready to be sent to a university, with Afanasiy's approval.**

** Afanasiy's approval requested a lot. I was to be tested in all I knew, academic and recreational. The second step was to actually be accepted into the university of my choice, which took months of process.**

** Really, all that extra studying I did amounted to absolutely nothing at all. You see, Afanasiy stopped me in the middle of my test. **


	7. To Draw

A/N: It feels good to update. Let's put it that way.

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**Chapter 6: To Draw**

** I was very excited for my university entrance exams as well as Afanasiy's test. The extra classes I had take on and the diligent studying I had performed left me confident and well prepared. I knew the format the university test would have; cold blooded facts and information. Afanasiy's test was more abstract and would contain more written short-answers about moral and ethical value.**

** Before I could take the exams a letter had to be sent to Afanasiy, whose visits to the academy had become rather infrequent, for his approval. It was irritatingly hard to write to Afanasiy, as it was so easy to let my thoughts run and pour out my questions on to the parchment.**

** What I did end up writing was curt and polite, and the message I received back from him was of the same tone. He said he knew I would do well, and that as per usual he had placed much faith in me.**

** The letter meant nothing to me, and I entered my isolated examination room with only the thought of university on my mind. I had 45 minutes to complete each section of the test, each test being 3 hours with a break and small dinner in between. The first test was the university's, and I flew right through it without hesitation.**

** It wasn't Afanasiy's test when what I like to call 'the interruption' happened. First of all his exam was full of questions that were either wild goose chases or so abstract that I didn't know where to begin. I developed a headache quite soon, and grew irritated with the test. It was at that time the interruption began.**

** Amidst the solemn quietness of my examination room the glass of the windows suddenly shattered, shaking me out of my concentration.**

** An instant after the shattered glass settled with a twinkle on to the floor, a blurred form dashed through the empty window frame. Predictably it was Afanasiy, whose eyes were wide and crazed, hair flustered and unkempt.**

** "Mihael!" he shouted.**

** I stared at him still relatively in shock of the window being destroyed and Afanasiy's dramatic entrance. Disregarding my lack of response, Afanasiy lunged forward and, to be blunt, slung me on his back. I tried to protest and get off but his grip was too strong. He ordered me to be still and that was the end of it.**

** I questioned Afanasiy's motive and what he was doing, but what made me question his sanity even more was that he promptly jumped out the shattered window. Out of instinct I shut my eyes tight, and there was a dreadful dropping sensation in my stomach as I knew we were falling.**

** But then miraculously it stopped. My heart was pounding furiously against Afanasiy's shoulder. I was about to open my eyes, but Afanasiy's voice sounded in my head. **_**Do not open your eyes, my child. Be still. We are going very high now. **_**Though I was still unaware of what was going on, I did was Afanasiy told me. He had control over my life, and the only thing I could do now was trust him. **

** Next thing I knew I do believe we were rising upwards, but the sensation was alien to me. It soon grew very cold, so cold that I quickly grew numb. Afanasiy whispered to me in my head, an ability I found quite unnerving at the time, that I would be warm and safe soon. The cold made me grow drowsy, and I did not

* * *

**

** When I woke up it was still night. I was laying the bed of a fine bedroom. Afanasiy was leaning up against the far wall looking at nothing in particular. He fit in with the lush room, dressed in a **_**cher**_** looking fur-lined coat.**

** "Sire, where are? Why did you take me from the academy?"**

** Afanasiy smiled, sighing. But the sigh was tense, and he looked pale and ashen as he sat next to me on the bed. He cupped my face in his hands another one of peculiarly intimate gestures. "Mihael," he told me. "The Academy was being raided and destroyed. Many of the boys were killed. I did all I could to get you out alive. We are at my estate on the coast of Normandy, France."**

** "But sire," I gushed. "Who would want to raid the Academy? And how did you get us to Normandy so quickly?"**

** Afanasiy chose not to answer me. "Look at you." He said, stroking one finger down my cheek. It gave me shivers; he was so cold. "So young."**

** "Sir," I said firmly. "I have nineteen years. I am a man." **

** My words made Afanasiy smile, though it was distant. His facial expression suddenly changed and became bright and animated. "Well then, now that you are a man, my dear boy, I do believe now is the time that I can confide in you a great and horrible secret."**

** His hand trailed from my cheek to my shoulder, moving down my arm to take my hand. I became entranced by his eyes, which were blazing with different shades of blue and silver. He took me out of the bedroom, through tall and drafty stone corridors, and eventually up to a mezzanine.**

** Afanasiy pointed upwards. "Look at the moon, Mihael. See how great it is, how it lights up this dark and vast sky."**

** "Yes, sir." I agreed amiably. There was a stirring in my body, something that made me want Afanasiy. **

** "And yet we know that sun is ultimately many times more great. The sun brings life and warmth, and the moon gives only coldness and death." He then turned. "Look at me now. Am I not the moon? And are you not the sun, so full of light?"**

** "Sir, I do not have the right nor mind to pass judgement."**

** He dashed forward so that I could not see him until he stopped moving, clutching at my shoulders roughly, face close to mine. "Do I not frighten you even the slightest, Mihael? Do I not represent the face of the Devil."**

** "S-sir," I whispered, quite frightened indeed, though not wanting to express it. "I do not believe you to be so."**

** Afanasiy sighed, his breath icy and scentless running over my face. "How blind you are, Mihael, to the world around you. I am quite disappointed."**

** I lowered my head, averting Afanasiy's gaze. **

** "No, look up sweet Mihael." He tipped my chin back up so that I was gazing directly at him. "Do you find me beautiful, Mihael?"**

** I blushed, starting to mumble a response, but Afanasiy interrupted me. "No, I already know what you think. Keep looking at me, Mihael. It's pleasant to look upon something beautiful while you die." **

** I didn't gave enough time to even begin to analyze what Afanasiy said, for it was then and without warning that he plunged his fangs into my neck. Too many strang things happened while I was with Afanasiy, and I sick and tire of trying actively to figure out who and what he was. I relaxed and let him take me without resistance, without even knowing what he was doing.**

** Afanasiy drank my blood like it was the only digestible substance on the earth. My strength was drained within moments and Afanasiy became the brightest thing. He was so bright that I was powerfully drawn to him, even when I was an inch from death.**

** My eyes were closed, my heart fluttering weakly, it being too tired to try to continue to reproduce the blood that had been stolen from me. Afanasiy gently rest me on the stone ground and his little acts that showed he believed me to be a person made me cry. Then his open wrist was pressed forcefully to my lips. **

** "Drink this and be welcomed to the eternal night of strength, where nothing on this earth can harm you, where the moon is your Guiding Light. Be welcomed to the world where the mortals can teach you everything in their ignorance. Follow me to a world of darkness where no soul can properly listen to comfort you, but at least it is a place where you can fall in love with mortal world."**

** I didn't listen to the words of Afanasiy, just the sound of his voice. Even so, I had bent to his desired will and parted my lips. I drank from the first fount of so many to come, and to this night I can still remember its exact flavor. I drank until I could hold no more. Then Afanasiy took the fount of my life away and leaned down to begin to begin again, reopening the puncture wounds he had created before.**

** It went on like that so many times. It was like being in the grip of a powerful drug, first came utter bliss and elation, then the mind consuming pain of withdrawal. When the process was finally done it was unbearable at first. My senses had been awakened as yours have been and I could not focus my mind on any particular thing because I was so overwhelmed.**

** When it was done Afanasiy silently put an arm around me and led inside to a small and bare chamber. I was shivering and trembling, completely engulfed in my new awakened senses so much that I was almost scared of it all.**

** Once in the chamber, Afanasiy had me sit down and explained to me simply that I was about to begin my mortal death. Soon enough, there was a great and painful wrenching in my stomach, and I looked down to be disgusted at the sight of my bodily fluids flooding out of me. **

** After that was done Afanasiy smiled grimly and stood up, prompting me to also do so. "Now that you have been Born Into Darkness my child, your true teachings can begin. I did select you for the Academy because of your inquisitive mind, but my ultimate goal was to transform you as I have done this evening."**

** "Sir," I whispered, disturbed by the sound of my own voice. "You have played with me."**

** Afanasiy broke into a sly grin and leaned down to impulsively kiss me. "What is life without a game, Mihael?"**

** "Ironic enough that you say so, sir," I began as I followed Afanasiy out of the chamber. "Seeing as you have stated that we are both dead." **

** It didn't seem to fit Afanasiy's fancy to reply. He brought me silently down stone corridors, eventually approaching a thick stone door. "See this door, Mihael? The stone it is made out of is as dense as dense can be; no mortal man is strong enough to open it. And yet we are."**

** I looked at the wheel of which one would turn to open the door- it was made of the same thick stone that the walls and ceilings were made of. It looked impossible to turn, more of a decoration then an actual door that would open.**

** I glanced up at Afanasiy timidly. "Sir, I don't-"**

** "Just try!" Afanasiy roared, suddenly seeming enraged. "There isn't much time!"**

** "Y-yes sir." I stammered, stumbling slightly under my new strength to reach for the wheel. When I did, I turned it and was astonished that it had bent to my will. I had known that it would be impossible and yet it had it had happened.**

** Afanasiy nodded. "When people say 'it can't be done' they are really saying 'I don't **_**believe**_** it can be done'. Everything can be done, but to unleash that limitless potential we have to clear our minds from a sense of limitation."**1

** I didn't say anything. Afanasiy entered the room and I followed him. The chamber was large with stained glass windows facing the eastern front. What the chamber held, however, was far more magnificent. It could only be described as a treasure, with chests spilling gold and jewels, ladies' gowns with pearls sewn in, crowns and circlets, jeweled swords and daggers.**

** "These are all the riches I have collected over the many centuries. Afanasiy announced with a sigh. "And as of tomorrow night it will be yours."**

** "Quiet impressive, sir. I am truly forever in your debt."**

** Afanasiy chuckled. "Now that you're an immortal, Mihael, forever has a whole new meaning."**

** After a brief assessment of the chamber of his riches Afanasiy led me around his castle, walking aimlessly as he talked. He explained to me all the things I have you. Of how only the sun and fire can kill us, of our superhuman strength and telepathy. He of course also explained of how we need the blood of humans to survive, and how to get the blood.**

** By the time he had explained all that it was close to dawn. I wanted to ask so many questions. What is our history? Where do we come from? What purpose do we have on this earth? What about God? But even as early as it was I could feel the sun pricking at my eyes.**

** "It is good to sleep in a coffin during the day time." Afanasiy was telling me as he was taking me to the room with our coffins. "There is no way the sun can penetrate."**

** The room we entered was furnished like a bedroom and even had a bed, but it was obvious the room was untouched and not lived in. Placed on a tiger fur rug were two stone coffins, ominous in their silence. The on the right had an intricate 'A' carved into it, and the other had an 'M'. **

** Afanasiy tore the lid off my coffin without even touching it, presumably by means of his powerful and refined telepathy. The noise of the marble startled me and hurt my now sensitive ears, and I half expected the stone of the lid to break apart.**

** "Your bed, Mihael." Afanasiy gestured towards the coffin, which was inlaid with the deepest blue velvet.**

** There was something undeniably depressing about stepping into a coffin. Coffins held the dead, not the living, even if Blood Drinkers were technically dead. It was like stepping into death, thought the velvet was comfortable and plush.**

** "Good morning, my precious fledgling." Afanasiy put the lid back on, bathing me in darkness. My heart momentarily sped up as a wave of claustrophobia swept over me. I could neither sit up nor move around, and that lack of ability to move was frightening. I would have to get used to sleeping in a coffin if I was going to have to do it for eternity.**

** I knew when dawn came, for at the moment when the sun warmed the coast of Normandy a deadening sensation came over me. All my muscles relaxed, and my thought process came to an abrupt halt. Unconsciousness came quickly.**

** The next night, at which upon waking I thought it was morning, turned out to be a tumultuous one. I woke up to the utter blackness of my coffin, and called out desperately for Afanasiy to help me. When he did not come I grew restless and I attempted to remove the coffin for myself, and was surprised that I could actually fling the stone lid easily across the room.**

** "The impossible is possible for you." Afanasiy had been in the room the whole time, watching me struggle.**

** Afanasiy explained to me that we were going to go into the near by village and hunt. The moment we reached the outdoors Afanasiy took off in a literal blur. I wagered I was supposed to learn by example and took off after him.**

** My first kill was sweet. Coarse, but sweet. It was a pretty woman we simply found wandering the outskirts of the village. Afanasiy hurriedly explained the Spell Gift, the ability to dazzle mortals and employed it the best that I could. Sure enough, the moment I stepped out of the shadows she ran into my arms, and then I had her.**

** The moment I sank my new born fangs into her I was hooked on mortal blood. No, this girl's blood was nothing like Afanasiy's dizzying nectar, but it was sweet and simple and I liked it. I sucked the girl dry, and even though I felt her heart pound a last few times I kept going. I went into death with her, and was united with her heart even as it died.**

** "Stop that!" Afanasiy cried after the girl had died and I continued to drink. He picked me up like a doll by my neck and threw me away from her.**

** "Sir…" I mumbled weakly as I retched, the last of the girl's blood spilling from my mouth.**

** "To follow a mortal past death is to dance upon the gates of death itself!"**

** I nodded, felling rather sick and disinclined to speak. **

** Seeming somewhat irritated but loving at the same time, Afanasiy picked me up in his arms and brought me back to his château. When we reached the grounds I saw a massive bonfire being tended to by the servants. When I asked Afanasiy what its purpose was, he only responded with a quiet, "Scatter the ashes."

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**

1 That quote is not my own words. The man who wrote those words is David Icke. The general population would call him a 'conspiracy theorist' but those Awakened to Infinite Awareness call him a 'truth searcher'.

A/N: Expect next from me next an MxN lemony one-shot titled Gasoline, written by request for loochester... Then I'll disappear for a while to work on my novel, then update again.

Thank you for your patience.


	8. Me In

Chapter 8: Me In

"Scatter the ashes, sir...? Whatever for?" I asked Afanasiy.

Afanasiy looked ahead of me, staring straight at the bonfire. His thoughts seemed to be consumed by it, as he paid no attention to my original inquiry. "If you don't scatter the ashes, it won't work."

"What won't work, sir?" I asked as he put me down, this time with a little more force.

The moment Afanasiy became free of me he ran, no leapt, to the bonfire. In a moment he was consumed by the flames, and it was in that moment that I realized what he was doing.

"Sir, no, you can't!" I cried out, running towards the bonfire. Only the sun and fire can kill us, he had told me. Afanasiy, the only man on this earth currently who had showed me kindness, my beloved Master and Maker, was about to end his own life.

When I got to the fire his screams bombarded my ears. They tore my head apart, they were so full of true pain and terror. I wanted to try and leap in to stop him, but the noise of his screaming brought my hands to my head and my knees to the ground.

The servants had gone and it was just me and Afanasiy, burning. I called his name, telling him to get out of there, pleading with him to stop. I prayed to God even though God was now the most confusing thing to me. None of it worked. The flames melted Afanasiy's skin. I could see his bones, pale as marble, at points. I could see his flesh bubbling. I could see his mouth open, jaw unhinged. His screaming had stopped because of all the smoke and ash that had gotten to his lungs, but he still wanted to scream.

"Why..." I whimpered, blood tears streaming down my face. "Why turn my life upside down and then end yours for your own selfish reasons?" I yelled that time, suddenly angry. How could he leave me all alone into the world of darkness that he had just put me into against my own will.

Some time later it was all over. Afanasiy was gone. The flames were dying down. It was early morning, and I was shaking was crying and screaming at him. It seemed that even Afanasiy's allegedly 'beloved' Mihael, the one he had placed so much faith in, could not even stop him.

I stumbled over to the ruins where the flames had been. I made me sick to see the ashes, to smell the smoke, and to have known the man who had died in the flames. Or should I call him the monster who had died in the flames? He had certainly appeared a monster to me then.

My hands trembling, a took a handful of ashes and threw them into the wind with a sob. There he was. The all powerful and knowing Afanasiy reduced literally to a pile of ashes. I developed a feverish momentum, scattering the ashes in a fast and intense rhythm. I just wanted to get it over with. If Afanasiy was finally dead as any other mortal man was dead, then I wanted all trace of him to be gone. Just after he had Birthed me into Darkness, I had thought he was perfect. He had appeared perfect and acted perfect to me. But clearly he was not, if he was so foolish as to take his own life.

It was going to be dawn soon, and instinct told me to retreat, to leave Afanasiy's remains and go back inside to find somewhere to hide from the sun. I ignored the servants and their pleas to know what was going on. I in fact struck some of them, and in not controlling my strength I fear I maimed, perhaps even killed, some of them. I got up to the tower where our coffins were our coffins were and collapsed in to Afanasiy's. I could smell his scent on it, and it disturbed me. It was like being with but knowing that I never would be again.

The nights after Afanasiy's death dragged on, and my spirit lingered in his final moments. All I could was replay the moments in my head, hearing him scream, seeing his flesh melt. It was endless, and I seemed to drown in the agony. Hunting was a motion simply to go through, not the art or performance you see me carry out now. I simply chose someone and tore and his or her throat, not caring for their peace of mind when they died, or how much I mutilated them.

I walked through the corridors of Afanasiy's chateau like a moving corpse. All I could do was see him smiling, see him in the days when our relationship wasn't tainted by murder or hate or Blood. I soon led a lifestyle similar to that of a monster. Lumbering about to kill and then doing nothing. Eventually it became so that I did not even have the will to hunt, so much that Afanasiy's death had hurt me. One evening I had been sitting by a tree. The though came to me blankly that I probably could just bury myself alive. And so that is what I did.

I buried myself so deep that when I weakened from lack of blood I could not rescue myself. The first month was pure torture. It was worse even then when Misa had set your house in Metairie on fire with me inside it. My veins pulsated with the rhythm of my heart, sending fire through them. Actually, it was quite like being on fire, yet being smothered at the same time. I was underground, the pressure of 10 feet worth of soil and earth pressing on me. It was the worst kind of pain, and I was helpless to it. I clawed at the ground all around me, desperately searching for some sort of reprieve around me, and of course finding none.

After a long while I was so weak that the pain was nothing. I couldn't move and I barely breathed. The pain ebbed as time went on, simply because it grew to be a norm and I built resistance to it. I simply lay in the ground like a corpse, listening to the little bugs and organisms, dead to the outside world.

I stayed in there at least a few months, though I'm not really sure of the exact time; no one told me. During that time I let my mind float, trying to expand it and make up for the fact that I was buried underground with virtually no way of getting out since I let myself grow that weak. It wandered and it roamed, and I probably had some profound thoughts, departed soon after their manifestation, and I could not get them back. Some nights I didn't think at all, just sleep.

It was on one of the nights that I was particularly conscious, that I felt my hunger for blood and yearned to satisfy it, that I was able to find the will to make it out. I heard someone calling my name, telepathically of course, and that person wanted me to get out. He offered me help and guidance. He said he teach me about my vampire nature like Afanasiy never had.

That alone was enough to spark my energy. Afanasiy killing himself was the ultimate betrayal, because he had left me hopeless and distraught in a time where I needed his direction the most. And now I was being offered that direction again.

I took the offer, my limbs suddenly awaking and clawing at the earth, trying to get up. I made my way a about a meter closer to the surface, but I grew weak again and I could not make it. Luckily, there was a rat burrowing about, and using my telepathy, I was able to lure the rat to me. Once it was in my clutches, I tore the rat's neck open messily with my teeth and lapped at the blood. Now, my love, you have been fortunate enough never to have to resort to drinking from animals, so let me tell that rat's blood is repulsive and disgusting. It was a not a pleasure to drink it, but the moment fresh blood was coursing through my veins, I got more energy and life back. It was because of that rat that I was able to break the surface and feel cool, fresh air wash over my face and to be able to breath freely again.

Free of the ground, I gulped in _real_ air, not the dirty air I had been breathing while in the ground. Looking around at the scenery, actually getting used to using my eyes again, I almost didn't see the man who had saved me. He was tall, a bit taller then I am, with neatly combed brown hair, rich, terra-cotta eyes, slim figure, and overall chicness. "Why hello there," he said to me, voice level. "Mihael Keehl, is it...?"

It took me a moment to find my voice, but then a managed an affirmative answer, "Yes. And who might you be, good savior?" I hungered for this man, this Blood Drinker, this Child of Darkness like me who offered me answers that Afanasiy had only tempted me with.

"My name is Light Yagami, and I am about five hundred years old." Dear Lord. Five hundred years of the thirst which tore at me, five hundred years of the suffering, five hundred years of watching all you know and love die.

I know what you are thinking, my darling. Light Yagami, he is a monster, how did I find him so beautiful then? All I can say to you is that I did not know what he would become. At the time he was my savior, the brightest light in the earthen darkness that I had slept in for so long. I was mesmerized by him and his power, and that he had taken pity on me of all people.

"Light Yagami..." The name ran off on my tongue though it was foreign. "I thank you. Why on earth...?" My words drifted off.

"Because I saw a beautiful soul in you." he said. "A beautiful soul that was trapped. I am here to set you free, and give you the answers you need to survive in this world of great darkness, though you must learn that within the darkness is beauty and light."

"One cannot know darkness without first having seen light..." I whispered.

"Yes," Light said, his voice intense and convincing, though he whispered. "Now you thirst. You are weak, you can barely stand. Come to me and partake in my Blood."

I went at Light like an animal. My fully developed fangs pierced deep into his neck, and I drank from him without reserve or dignity. And I think Light liked it. I think I heard him laugh.

Light's Blood was not quite like Afanasiy's. It wasn't so mind blowingly potent that it caused utter elation in its purest form, but it was still great. It was still rich, still pleasuring.

"Stop, stop." Light pushed me away gently before he got too weak. But I was just getting started. He had simply wet my appetite, and I wanted some more. I ravaged Light with my eyes, taking in all his fine features. My eyes were awake and working.

"Mihael, one who is like God," Light said, telling me the meaning of my name that I already knew. It was like he was talking to himself, pondering the definition. "No, that name cannot be. We are Godless people. From now on, you will be called Mello.

And that was how I got my name, the one you met and know me by. It was as simple as that. He had just decided, and so it was. I followed Light's idea for this name change with my whole heart. Light represented to me at that time some all knowing deity. And if he said it was right for me to be called Mello, then so it would be.

I had gone into the earth Mihael Keehl and out simply Mello. What a change it was. It was like a transformation of my whole personality. As time went on, I shed the scholarly, God fearing person I was as Mihael and developed into the rash, playful and loving Mello you know me as. This happened as I forgot my mortal-hood, as I forgot Afanasiy. Of course I never properly forgot my dear Maker- how could anyone? But in time I grew to hate him, and I hated hatred, so I tried to put him from my mind.

After that fateful meeting, Light brought me back to Afanasiy's castle, arm securely around my shoulder. He had already settled in there, and the two of us would stay there shortly before traveling to Florence, the place Light planed on living. I was happily accepted to join him. With my new senses, I wanted to know as much of the world as I could. And even though I had all of eternity, I wanted to start right now.

We stayed at the castle for three nights. There, Light taught me everything I have taught you. I knew just what I could do, and what I would be able to as I grew older and more powerful. He taught me how to guard my mind from intrusion and to read those of others, among other such powers the Blood Drinkers are blessed with upon their awful transformation. I was happy with Light. He loved for me, cared for me, in a way that genuine and real. He didn't just adore because I was the type of person he wanted for a fledgling. He loved me because of who I am, as cliché as that sounds. But it was true, and for that I loved Light back with all my heart.

I know that you find this repulsive. How could I love Light, simply could I? Let me emphasize, my darling, that light was my savior. He was my teacher and my beloved more then Afanasiy ever was or could be. I did not know that he would grow to be my most hated enemy, the one that got in the way of all I love and stand for, you.

When we left, we left in luxury, as Light had hired only the finest of carriages to take us the palazzo he had purchased in Florence. (He had also taken account of all the physical wealth that Afanasiy had left me, and moved all of it into Swiss vaults.) Those nights as were traveled were sweet, careless and free. We discussed everything from politics to art, philosophy to music. Light and I had very different ideas, but we did not anger each with them and simply coexisted.

I loved Light blindly. I loved Light because he was there, he had saved me, and because he was beautiful. I do not think it was real love, but at the time I wondered how it could be anything but. How naïve I was.

Florence was a great, splendid city. It was glowing with wealth and beauty, so much that the people seemed to drink gold. It was full of gold and history. The palazzo was charming, but that is not where I spent most of my time with Light. We went out hunting in early evening, or sometimes we skipped it. Light did not need to hunt so much as I did, and sometimes we tested my limits. After feeding we explored the city, finding little hidden galleries or taverns that the locals more often frequented then the travelers. But of course we did all the typical sightseeing, visiting great cathedrals and gazing in awe of Renaissance masters such as Botticelli and Fra Fillipo Lippi.

I liked the work of Lippi best, because they told of struggles. Without knowing his life story you could see the conflict in his paintings, it was just a sort of sense you pulled out of it, but with the knowledge of his life it did not quite make sense. Fillipo Lippi was a priest, hence the Fra title, and yet he begged and begged and wanted nothing more to be with women. He even debauched a convent, more or less kidnapping a nun named Lucrezia and her blood-related sister.

Light laughed at the way I was moved by the paintings. He said the paintings were boring and never changed. He said that living things were much more interesting to look at and to learn from. But I did not care.

Those were innocent times, one can't deny it. And they stayed innocent and pure until another Blood Drinker came to Florence. This one was weak, with barely of a month of vampirism marked upon him. He was starving and confused, much like I was when Light had found me years before. But it was this poor man that tainted the life of bliss that Light and I had shared. Yet he made it more wonderful for me, at the same time. He saw love and me and I in him. Yet he complicated things, and made life complicated. To this day I wonder what would have been better, ignoring his plea for help and staying in a land of pleasure with Light, or picking him up as we did, nurturing him and loving him, yet letting him split us apart.

This man at the time was called Mail Jeevas, but Light sought to rename him as he did I, and that name also stuck with him like mine did. He was called Matt.

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**A/N: I thank those who still read this story for their infinite patience. It is better to get one or two reviews from regular readers who believe in me then to get a plethora of reviews from people who have not followed my work for a long time, and who are reading simply because it is popular.**


	9. And Your Innocence

Chapter 9: And Your Innocence

I lived with Light alone in Florence for about a decade or so. At the time, those days in a city of gold were the greatest. I thought I was in love with everything, even the lecherous cripples left on the streets to waste away. And of course, I thought I loved Light.

Now, what I felt towards Light was devotion. And I thought it was love. Yet with love comes a certain amount of devotion, but it does not go the other way around. And so I followed him blindly. I lapped up his every word, praise or chastisement it didn't matter. Just to hear his sweet voice was enough.

During that time we lived in endless splendor. Light's massive amount of wealth combined with the vast treasure I had inherited from Afanasiy was more then enough to live like Cosimo de' Medici, the son and successor of the first Duke of Florence, Alessandro de' Medici. And yet I was a slave to Light. I was devoted so wholeheartedly to him that I didn't dream of ever defying his word or denying his need. Light used that to his advantage, but at the time I was too naïve and blind to notice.

I grew so used to Light's Blood that I knew the taste and texture of it even better then my Maker Afanasiy's. Light, in fact, completely obliterated Afanasiy out of my mind. I may have even been so delusional to think that Light was my Maker, simply because I believed he loved me so much.

I know what you're thinking, my dear one. What a completely and utter fool I was. I know darling, you don't have to tell me twice.

I lived as that for a decade, a complete slave in body, mind, and heart to Light. I forgot about everything I had believed in before him, including God. To me, Light was all there ever was. To me, Light ruled all, and Florence was just his playground of choice for a moment.

But with all delusions, mine with Light shattered eventually, and thank God it did. One evening the two of us were out hunting. We often shared the same victim, him at the throat and me at the wrist, and we had just finished off one nasty killer. Now, Afanasiy didn't teach me to only hunt the Evil Doer. Light did. It's probably the only principle that him and I share to date. We about to leave the alley way and head back to the palazzo when we heard a god awful moaning. It had only begun after Light and I had finished hunting.

Light's eyes flashed. For a moment, I thought of how wonderfully alert he was, and how beautiful it looked when he was thinking. _Blood Drinker_, he told me, using the Mind Gift. Light frowned, making a gesture for me to follow as he turned around and began walking towards the source of the noise. Of course I followed, pondering the prospect of another vampire in Florence. There had been none in the time we were here but us, and our rule of the city had been unchallenged.

However, I understood there was no threat when I saw Light's mouth curve upwards in a smirk. He stopped a little ways back, facing the wall of one of the buildings. He was looking downwards, and so I too followed his gaze.

I stopped breathing. Something in me just shut down. The poor thing was starving, skin thin and hollowed almost to his bones, breath coming in raspy gasps. He lay on the ground, filthy and desperate. And yet, in the midst of all the muck and despair, the thing's hair shone bright and true, as if nothing could touch it. I had never seen hair like it's, so purely red.

Light crouched down to better look at the thing on its level. And yet as he did so, the thing had mustered up a burst of energy, and so quickly that mortals could not see it, he lashed out at Light's wrist and in one quick twisting motion it had brought Light's wrist to its mouth. Of course, Light wouldn't stand for just anyone drinking his intoxicating Blood, and broke the thing's grip as quickly as it had been made, but the thing had still gotten a taste of Light's Blood, having been able to tare out a big gash in his wrist.

"Weak, ill-bred filth!" Light cursed. It was the first time I had seen him angry as well as the first he gave any hint that he was supremacist. I was afraid of him at that moment.

I made a soft move to take Light's wrist, an offer to heal his wound with my own Blood. He shook his head, declining, and instead let the precious liquid gem of his existence drip steadily unto the grimy ground.

"Save your energy for this thing, dear Mello." Light told me. "We can't have it running amuck, completely ignorant of its manners, amongst our beautiful city."

I smiled then. That's when I knew. Without having to be told I willingly scooped the thing up into my arms, though my nose was overwhelmed with the stench of his filth. It's seemed the thing's Maker taught less then my Afanasiy, seeing as the thing barely survived. It probably didn't even know how to hunt properly, and only felt the great ache of the primal instinct for blood.

We took the thing home. I was locked alone if my bedroom with it, the thing laying half dead on my carpet at the foot of the bed. I was disgusted by it, no doubt, it didn't even seem human. But I knew there could be beauty. I knew there could be grace and a person, and Light saw that too. Because when I was locked in with him I was told, "You know what to do." by Light.

And indeed, I knew what to do. I got on the floor with it, seeing as it probably didn't have the strength to even get up to it. I whispered to it in Italian and my native Russian. I whispered scenes of beauty, random scraps of books I could recall from my days at the Academy. I tried to make it happy. And then, once there was a soft and babyish smile on the thing's face, I went to his ear and I whispered that one cherished, sought after word. "Drink."

Even that thing knew what the word meant. With the ferocity of animal his fangs, still a bit blunt and unrefined, tore at my throat. God, it was so unclean. Even the youngest of vampires have enough ability not to spill even a drop. But did he? Yes, there was blood everywhere. It was my Blood, my new preternatural Blood, spilling before my eyes. And the thing lapped it up like it was the only Blood there ever was. It sucked at my throat, coaxing more and more to come free. And it did. It sucked my dry, till the point where I was very weak. But even then I was still infinitely more powerful then it.

Before on the floor, with color and health in his face, the stench of the streets of Florence replaced with scent of my Blood and my skin and the radiance of my powerful Blood racing through his veins, was a man. And he opened his eyes for the first time in front. I laughed, but it was not mocking. With a color bright enough to match his fiery hair, his eyes were a pure emerald, clear and shining.

I felt like I was about to faint, I lacked blood so much. I was dizzy and I was weak and I was not thinking straight. I felt a mad attraction towards this man whose beauty I had awoken with my Blood. It was like when I became of age at the Academy and I had a mad desire to conquer every boy that was there in bed. But I only kissed him. And that was enough for me at the moment.

The day was fast approaching, and Light saw to it that this new member of our little family slept comfortably in my coffin with me. When I presented him to Light, though he did not speak to Light, Light looked pleased. And so in turn I was pleased, and I was happy with the way things had turned out.

The next night I woke up, and he was clinging to me tightly. I smiled into his cheek. This man, this weak little fledgling whom I had given strength to, probably regarded me almost as his Maker, the memories attributed to the real one most like obliterated as mine was. I was proud of this. I had no interest in making a fledgling myself, but to have a companion like that meant the world to me at the time.

Before hunting that evening Light decided that we should have a bit of a meeting in one of the parlors. He sat in an ornate wooden chair, facing the man in I who were seated on a long sofa.

"Dear child," he said to the fledgling. "You are welcomed to the city of Florence warmly and may stay under mine and Mello's hospitality for as long you like, but it is rude to treat you as a complete stranger. We don't know a thing about you."

The man stayed stayed silent, facing Light with stoic determination.

"Your name, at least." I begged him, clasping his hand in mine.

The man's face turned to me. He opened his mouth. "Mail Jeevas," His voice was sweet, soft. It obviously haven't been used in a while, but it wasn't scraggly and broken. His voice made me smile.

Light drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Mail Jeevas, eh? What an awkward sounding name." He then looked Mail in the eye. "You are going to be called Matt from now on. Understand, little one?"

Mail, now dubbed Matt by my prepossessing Light, nodded. A twinge of unhappiness flickered within me, for I could get the sense that Matt did not particularly like Light. Social tension, I believed, would make me most unhappy.

But there were three of us now. A proper coven. And a coven of Blood Drinkers was a family. And family loved each other. And so with those statements, I desperately tried to make it so that everyone was content with the way things were.

Matt lived with us for a good long time, perhaps a few decades if I remember correctly. But what I should say is that Matt lived with me, not Light, and I tried to live in balance with. I was to Matt as Light was to me, a savior and a Blood Drinker so generous that I could be considered Maker. He treated me with the utmost respect and tried to please me as much as I did Light. And yet when it came to Light himself, master of the house and certainly master of us two, Matt completely ignored him. Light at first had tried to get Matt to talk to him, tried to be decent host, but his endeavors failed and whenever he needed to get an opinion or piece of information from Matt, he would ask me to ask him.

I found our situation uncanny. I was completely and utterly in the middle, trying to smooth out and balance the tension that became heated with time between Matt and Light. I felt so much affection for them, and wanted to please them so badly that it grew to be that I lived for myself and not for them. My life was a constant struggle to maintain the peace in our home.

Naturally, one of the more pressing questions on my mind was why Matt felt such resentment towards Light. Their personalities shouldn't have conflicted, and Light had done nothing but give to Matt since we had taken him in. Why there was this constant sense of underlying agitation was completely unfathomable.

There was a time when Matt and I were alone, in the bedroom we shared since Matt had abandoned his own for mine, when I dared to ask him. You see, Matt wasn't the most social of people and hardly ever talked about his feelings or his hopes and dreams. His personal thoughts he kept to himself as well. Therefore, I felt a certain nervousness when I approached him about the subject. I feared that I would upset him.

"Matt, can I ask you something?" I started out casually, standing in front of a glass window which looked out onto the beautiful Florence cityscape.

"Of course," he said, coming to me and resting his head in the crook of my shoulder and neck. The feel of his hair up against my skin made me shiver. His rested lightly on the sides of my arms, gently holding me. I felt guilt at that moment. What made him trust me so, I wondered.

"I'm sorry if I'm wrong in saying this," I started off hesitantly. I was honestly afraid of insulting him, of making him unhappy. I feared that his adoration of me would be corrupted, and over time he would grow to resent me as much as he seemed to resent Light. "But why do you seem to be aggrieved towards Light?"

Matt gave a short, almost sharp sigh and then kissed my neck. His arms left mine and I turned to watch him sit down on our bed, which of course was almost never used. He swung his graceful legs over the bed and laid down swiftly, shining crimson hair spreading slightly on the velvet pillow. I walked over and sat in a chair near him, intensely interested in his response, seeing as Matt always gave his answers simple and clean. He never elaborated like I could tell he was going to now.

"My real Maker," he started. "I've yet to tell you about her, haven't I?"

I nodded in agreement. "You've never once mentioned a word about your past." I said softly.

"Well, all you need to know about her personality is that she's a world class whore. Completely undignified. Her heart leads her, and she never thinks anything through. It's because of her that I ended up half dead in the streets where and when you found me."

I laughed shakily, taken aback by Matt's atypical manner of speech. Usually he was so laid back, going with the flow of whatever I chose to do or to like. "Matt, really is she that bad? Must you be so disrespectful towards her?"

"Yes. Every word I say about her I mean wholeheartedly." He nodded as he spoke, completely convicted by what he was saying. I had no choice but to believe that she was such a horrible person. "And yet even a whore has her personal tastes, and my Maker, despite all her little dalliances, has her eyes set on one Blood Drinker alone."

I immediately knew. "Light." The name rolled off my tongue like blood rolled around it.

Matt nodded, giving a melancholy little smirk. "Exactly the one. But don't get me wrong, I try constantly each night to get past my Maker and to only see Light when I look upon his face. But I absolutely cannot. Each waking moment I spent with my Maker, no matter what we were doing, it was all for Light. And she soon forgot me. She forgot me for Light."

To this day I am a horrible consoler, and then was certainly no different. But I can't say I didn't try my best. "Well, your Maker isn't here right now. I can keep her away from you, you know. It can only be us three, and you can learn to like Light."

Matt's body shook. My stomach lurched. I had said something wrong. He was crying. Blood tears, almost like the color of his face running down his cheeks, a garish symbol of my blunder.

"No, Mello. As much as I fear this realization, I know that you cannot. She is powerful, centuries older then Light, and I know he is at least five hundred years older then you and I. And besides, even if you could keep her herself at bay, I couldn't possibly keep her image away. Mello, you enchant me."

I was surprised that he jumped subjects so quickly. I wondered if it had any relevance, but I knew of course it did. Matt was not one to waste his words.

"Your hair is so blond, like no other man I've seen before. It's shining like gold and one of the softest substances. It is like hers. And your manner of dress, so somber and dark and yet extremely extravagant and completely expressive of your personality. It is like hers."

I frowned. "So you love me because I am like her."

"Of course not!" Matt exclaimed. "Just those two things. Other then that you are entirely different from her. Incredibly more interesting and intelligent. Completely different from her, except those two things. But it is still enough." Matt sat up then, looking into my face, his green eyes trembling with the saddest expression. Now he felt that I had been insulted, which simply made me feel even worse.

I sighed. This conversation had gone for the downfall. "Matt, I don't know of a good way to help you, and I don't know what to say. All I can advise is that when you look at me or Light, try to think of me or Light only. Become immersed in us. Do not think of your Maker who it pains you to recollect. It does not any good for you."

Matt nodded, his hands gingerly reaching out to my face. "I know, and it is certainly not bad advice. I will strive to do as you say, Mello."

I smiled. "I thank you dearly, Matt. You have know idea how much you and Light mean to me, and all I want is for the three of is to coexist forever in perfect harmony."

How utterly naïve I was in that time. It disgusts me.

There was a moment of silence, and in that time the serious quality of the conversation just simply dropped. I laughed slightly and playfully pushed Matt forward so that I was on top of him on the bed. "All I want is to please you," Matt said with a smile. And so he did.

After I had spoken to him about it, Matt really did try to better get along with Light. And for a good, solid period of time it really did work. And it was then that I was fully happy. I believed it could not have gotten any better. And compared to the rest of life, it couldn't have. I was wealthy beyond what I knew possible, living the life of a king with the two people I held most dearly to my heart. I had whatever I wanted almost immediately, and no one could stand in my way. It was bliss.

But of course at that time I was too young to realize that all things come to pass. I did not know it was like to spends decades into centuries with someone. I did not know what it was like to know their every habit, every wish and desire, almost every little thought that went through their head. I was not ready for it, either. Despite being immortal for over a mortal lifetime by then, I was still thinking like a human. And that is not a good thing to do when you are anything but one.

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_**IMPORTANT UPDATE: I am starting school in 8 days. Not only that, but I'm beginning my first year at an internationally competitive prep school. Most students come from out of state or internationally, and so they board. Because of that, school becomes their life. I am not boarding, but I still have days that run from 8 to 6 at night at the earliest. Some days I'll be there 12 hours. I also have classes on Saturdays. Not to mention the amount of homework I'll be receiving. Therefore, my updates will become even more sparse then they have become, I am sorry to say. With all my studies I cannot even guarantee I will update again.**

**But I can and most certainly will try to remain active. Writing Dark Shines is more pleasurable to me then revising the novel I wrote, simply because I can just let the words flow from me. I will attempt to remain active, but I cannot guarantee anything due to the intense and breakneck atmosphere of my school.**

**I hope you have enjoyed my writing thus far,**

**Backyard Bottomslash **


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